


Freebies and Oak Trees

by violue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anal Sex, Biphobia, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2017, M/M, Past Castiel/Other(s), Past Dean/Other(s), background Sam/Tracy Bell, infidelity (not Dean/Cas)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: It’s just a joke. Dean adding Castiel Novak to his “Celebrity Freebie” list is just a joke. Dean has a girlfriend, and besides, it’s not like he’s ever going to meet Castiel, let alone sleep with him. Right?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It's DCBB time, everyone! I haven't written much this year but I couldn't not be part of Destiel Christmas!! 
> 
> Thank you so much to Starmouse123 for my art, you did a wonderful job!
> 
> Beta'd by Lydie, Heather, and Kris. Thank you, my darlings.

“What about Flo?”

“Who?”

“Flo! You know, with the hair, and the white outfit…”

“Are you talking about the damn woman from the Progressive commercials?”

“She’s hot!”

It’s Friday night, and Dean and his crowd are at Harvelle’s like always, sitting on the couches towards the back underneath the sign with “VIP LOUNGE” spelled out in glued-down beer bottle caps. Harvelle’s is on the ass-end of Wichita, thirty minutes from where Dean lives and even further from where he works, but he and his friends have been coming here for years. It’s home, like his car, his brother, and his dad’s old leather jacket.

Right now Jo’s sprawled out on one couch, even though she works here and it’s the middle of her shift. Mick is perched on one arm of the couch, trying not to fall off while Jo pushes at him with the tips of her feet. Charlie and Ash are each holding on to the last chicken finger, and have been for three minutes. Dean’s money is on Charlie winning, but either way who wants to eat something that’s had someone’s greasy hand on it? Tessa and Ketch are sitting… close. It bugs Dean. Not because he thinks Tessa would do anything, but because he knows Ketch would. Somehow Dean ended up in the big recliner on his own. Tessa could come sit on here with him; she used to.

And yet…

No, it’s fine. Dean’s going to enjoy his Friday, drink some beer, play “Who would you bang” with his friends, and pour himself into a cab at closing.

“Hey,” Dean says, sitting forward so he can smack Ash’s hand and let Charlie have the last chicken finger, “if Mick wants to fuck Flo from Progressive, let the man fuck Flo from Progressive.”

“ _Thank you,_ ” Mick says, almost too enthusiastically. Victor walks over with a pitcher of beer, filling everyone’s glasses then looking around expectantly.

“You anglin’ for a tip, sweetheart?” Dean says, grinning.

“Waiting for one of you assholes to move out of the way so I can sit,” Victor says, pointedly staring at Jo, who stares back with a lazy smile. “Move your legs or I’m sitting on them.” Jo sticks her tongue out, but moves her legs.

“Mick wants to stick it in Flo,” Jo says.

“Who’s Flo?”

“The Progressive lady.”

“From the commercials?!”

The chatter continues for a while, and Dean drifts in and out, mostly looking at the way Tessa and Ketch’s knees are _almost_ touching, but not quite. At some point he realizes Tessa and Ketch are staring at him. In fact, everyone’s staring at him.

“I, uh… huh?” Dean tries.

“Dude, come back to Earth,” Jo says, eyebrows raised high.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I _asked_ who your celebrity freebies were.”

“My what?”

Jo rolls her eyes. “You _know,_ the celebrities you’re allowed to cheat with!”

“Is it really cheating if you’re allowed?” Ketch says. Tessa snorts next to him.

“I dunno,” Dean says, shrugging. “What are yours?”

“I already said mine. Core Avengers, swap out Stark for T’Challa.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Wait, so the actors or the characters? You’re never going to fuck Thor.”

“I’m never going to fuck the guy that plays him, I don’t think it matters.”

“I take it Mick’s freebie list is just a paper with ‘Flo from Progressive’ written on it,” Dean says, grinning over at Mick, who shrugs.

“I like what I like,” Mick says.

“Vic?” Dean asks.

Victor shakes his head. “Don’t need a freebie list when you’re single. I’m wide open.”

“Interesting wording,” Jo says with a smirk.

“You go, Charlie,” Ash says.

Charlie’s ready right away. “Scarlett Johansson, _obviously,_ Lupita Nyong’o, Lucy Lawless, Paula Patton… especially if she’s in her Warcraft makeup, _yum…_ and then Castiel Novak.”

Everyone stops staring at Dean to look at Charlie.

“Castiel Novak?” Tessa says. “He’s _gay,_ Charlie.”

“So? So am I. He’s my ‘if I had to pick a guy’. No sex though, not even for Castiel Novak. But you know. I’d make out with him. A lot.”

“Oh hell yeah, me too,” Jo says, nodding.

“Absolutely,” Tessa says.

Interesting. Dean had no idea his girlfriend was into the guy from Halo Project. “Who else is on your list, Tess?”

Tessa tosses Dean a flirty grin. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“You first.”

“Promise?”

“ _Promise_.”

“Okay, so… Castiel Novak,” Tessa says, leaning forward and away from Ketch, “Idris Elba… he’s number one. Number one, Dean. Dean, I’d drop you _right now_ for Idris Elba,” Tessa says emphatically. She’s a little chattery when she’s tipsy, it’s always cute.

“Got it, Tess, jeez.”

“Okay so Idris Elba, Castiel Novak, Ryan Reynolds, Steven Yeun, and then Jon Hamm… because well you know.”

Ketch speaks for what seems like the first time tonight. “I really don’t.” Tessa nudges him.

“ _You knoooow,_ ” she says again.

“I have no idea.”

“He has a big dick, jeez,” Jo says.

“Ah, Dean not satisfying?” Ketch says to Tessa. Dick. Why is he being a dick?

“First of all, you’ve _seen_ my dick, so you can fuck off with that. Second—”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Tessa says, looking back and forth between Dean and Ketch, “when did you see Dean’s _dick_?”

“You remember,” Charlie says. “Two years ago, the hot chocolate.”

Dean’s thighs are burning just hearing that.

“Oh right, Dean’s poor dick,” Tessa says mournfully.

“It was _three_ years ago, and Dean’s poor dick is fine now, thanks,” Dean says, crossing his legs and glaring when he hears Victor and Ash snicker.

“Still waiting on that list, Dean-a-ling,” Jo says.

“Okay, but… never call me that again. How many on the list?”

“Five’s the standard,” Charlie says eagerly.

“Okay, Morena Baccarin, Gina Torres—”

“You can’t just name five women from Firefly,” Charlie interrupts.

“I _wasn’t,_ and you let Jo name five from Avengers!” Dean grouses. “Okay Morena Baccarin, Gina Torres…” Dean pauses, because he really _was_ going to name five women from Firefly. “Chloe Bennet, Jamie Chung, uh… oh, and Castiel Novak,” he says, smirking at Charlie.

“I’ll fight you for him,” Charlie says.

“Is he really on your list?” Victor says from the couch.

“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if Dean had a guy on his list,” Tessa says, “I’ve seen the look on his face when he watches Dr. Sexy.”

“ _Oh,_ that’s right!” Charlie practically yells. “Surprised _he_ wasn’t on your list.”

“Should I bump Novak for Dr. Sexy?” Dean chuckles.

“No _way,_ ” Jo says from the couch. “Castiel Novak is from Kansas—”

“A lot of actors are from Kansas,” Mick cuts in.

“Dean has a better shot with Castiel! He’s nearby!”

“He’s not nearby, Halo Project doesn’t film here, and I’m not _actually_ going to sleep with him,” Dean says with an eye roll.

“That’s the whole _point_ of the freebie list,” Tessa says.

“Are you saying you _want_ me to go bone a guy?”

“Actually that would be pretty hot…” Tessa leans back on the couch, smiling with her eyes closed.

Ketch makes a noise of mild disgust. “You swing that way, Dean?”

He does, but he’s never told anyone here that. Gordon’s back in Lawrence, high school was a long time ago, and Dean hasn’t ever seriously dated a guy anyway.

Before Dean can answer, he hears the sound of a hand hitting the table with force. “What the damn hell is that supposed to mean?” It’s Jo, she looks pretty irritated.

“Nothing, I merely didn’t know if Dean was interested in men,” Ketch says, voice even.

“Yeah but you said it all… _ewwwwwwww_ -like,” Charlie says. She looks more disappointed than mad.

“I have no problem if a girl wants to—”

“Oh God. Oh sweet Jesus. Oh heavenly Cthulu, if Arthur Ketch is one of those ‘same sex is only okay when it’s women’ assholes… grant me the fucking strength.” Okay, _now_ Charlie sounds mad. Jo looks like she’s about to break a beer bottle and get to stabbing.

No one’s smiling now. Wow, this night took a sudden turn.

“I apologize,” Ketch says. It sounds sincere enough. He’s an asshole, but he’s not stupid. “I have no idea where I was going with that, I apologize for how it sounded.”

“I gotta get back behind the bar,” Jo says, rising to her feet. She walks off without a goodbye, muttering about “stupid British pricks” under her breath as she goes.

“Way to fucking go, English,” Ash says, frowning at the space Jo used to occupy. Dean’s pretty sure Ash has a crush on Jo, but he’s not about to stick his nose in that mess.

Tessa’s moved away from Ketch. Good.

Everything is tense now, though, which is a bummer. “Just for that, I’m keeping Novak on the list,” Dean says, trying to lighten the mood. There’s a chuckle from Charlie and a deep British sigh from Ketch.

“Well, I think the next round is on ol’ Arty,” Victor says, gesturing to the empty beer pitcher.

Ketch lets out an even deeper and even more British sigh. He hates being called Arty, Dean knows. Dean grins. Maybe the night’s not tanked yet.

 


	2. Chapter 2

__

 

 

_Three weeks later_

  


  


Another Friday, this time not at Harvelle’s. Because Tessa wanted to do something different. Because Tessa thinks they’re in a rut. Dean _likes_ being in a rut, thank you very much. But if it’ll stop Tessa from being kind of weird and distant, Dean will get out of the rut. Dean will even buy a new black leather jacket, mousse his hair, and show up to their apartment like he’s picking Tessa up for a date.

Tessa is all smiles when she answers the door, wearing the little black dress she borrowed from Charlie, who borrowed it from Jo, who borrowed it from Dean’s ex-girlfriend Josie four years ago. Not that Tessa knows that, and Dean’s sure as shit not going to tell her right now when they’re set to have a good night. Just the two of them, at a bar Dean never goes to because it’s expensive and he’d rather be in the pretend VIP lounge at Harvelle’s.

“You look…” Dean trails off, because his first instinct was to say “smashing”, but that sounds like something Ketch would say. Or Austin Powers.

“You too,” Tessa says, all but purring. “ _Love_ the new jacket.”

“You’d better, because you’re gonna be the one paying all the bills this month.”

“I’ll take it out in trade,” Tessa says with a wink. It’s a cute joke, but they haven’t had sex in… what, a month? But Dean smiles and plays along, because bitching about not getting any like some entitled punk isn’t going to do anyone any favors. “Just got off the phone with Ketch, he and Vic will meet us at Pumpkin Grand… I think they might pick up Ash.”

Dean falters as they walk to his car. He thought this was… date night. Just the two of them. He sure as shit didn’t get dressed up for Victor or Ketch. How are they getting out of a rut if they’re just hanging with the same old gang? Not that he _minds,_ but he thought the point was— okay no, if this is what Tessa wants, might as well go for it.

This is fine.

 

*  


 

Dean’s never been to Pumpkin Grand, partly because he already has a bar he likes, and partly because of the dumb name. It sounds like a candy bar or a bakery, not a “nice” bar. They have to park two blocks away, and there’s a line to get in. A _line._ Like they’re in fucking New York or some shit. They spend over an hour in line, talking, laughing, and looking pretty damn good in Dean’s opinion. Tessa’s co-worker Billie shows up, and Tessa makes a big show of introducing her to Victor. So apparently this is also a fixup for Victor’s chronically single ass. On the plus side, Billie apparently knows the guy in charge of letting people in, and she’s not there three minutes before they’re being waved inside. Ketch almost gets left outside, Dean has to work hard not to laugh.

It’s a pretty cool bar. It’s certainly bigger than Harvelle’s, and everyone is dressed a lot nicer. There are plenty of places to sit, decent music that Dean would never listen to on his own, and a lot of colorful and ridiculous looking drinks. Apparently they don’t serve food here, though, unless Dean wants to eat a jar of olives or maraschino cherries.

When Dean complains that he’s hungry, Victor smirks, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I knew you’d be wanting food.” He holds up a Snickers bar.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dean says, knowing what’s coming.

“Take this,” Victor says, holding the candy bar out, “you’re not you when you’re hungry.”

Dean rolls his eyes and snatches the bar out of Victor’s hand. “I thought this was Charlie’s bit,” he says, tearing into the packaging and taking a small bite. He’s gonna ration this out, who knows how long they’ll be here.

Tessa laughs when she sees Dean squirreling the candy away. “You’re like a little—” her eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

Everyone turns, trying to see whatever it is Tessa is seeing. “What? What is it?” Ketch says eagerly. He probably thinks some chick’s top has come off or something.

“Over there, in the corner,” Tessa says, voice awed. “No, the _other_ corner, under the green light,” she adds, trying and failing to point with her eyes or her eyebrows or her entire face, Dean’s not sure.

“It’s Agent Hottielicious himself,” Tessa says, “Kelvin Cooper.”

“Oh come the fuck on,” Billie says, looking around, “what would _he_ be doing— oh _shit,_ Tess, that’s him!”

Dean’s eyes land on the attractive darker skinned man talking to someone beneath a neon green light in the shape of a margarita glass. God _damn,_ that definitely looks like one of the stars of Halo Project. Well, that’s fucking random.

“Charlie’s going to shit a brick when she finds out she missed the guy from one of her favorite shows,” Dean says, pulling out his phone to take a dark and grainy photo. He texts it to Charlie, who’s off on a LARPing weekend and probably won’t read her texts until Sunday.

“Someone oughta get his autograph for Charlie,” Ash says, looking pointedly at Tessa.

“What, why me? Billie, you go do it, go get his autograph.”

Billie shakes her head at Tessa. “I’m not about to go embarrass my ass in front of Kelvin Cooper.”

“Well don’t look at me,” Dean says, “I’m not going to be that asshole bugging a celebrity when they’re just trying—” Dean’s interrupted by the rarely-heard sound of Ketch laughing. “Dude, what?”

Ketch tries to do the same eye-pointing thing Tessa was doing. “Did you see who he’s talking to?”

Everyone looks back over at Kelvin. He’s smiling and nodding, talking to a man in dark slacks and a tucked in white button-up shirt. Other than possibly someone who has a nice ass, Dean has no idea who the guy is. He and Victor scoot along their couch, moving closer to Ketch so they can get a better angle. Victor immediately starts laughing and nudges Dean hard.

“Well, well, well,” Victor says.

The man turns a little, just enough for Dean to see— oh, for crying out loud, it’s Castiel Novak. Fuck, Dean’s never going to hear the end of this. “Not goin’ for _his_ autograph either,” he says.

“I think we’re ‘bout to see Tessa and Dean fight over who gets to have a shot at him,” Ash says, taking a pull from a drink so purple it seems to be glowing.

“Meaning?” Billie says, leaning a little in Ash’s direction. Damn, is she into Ash? Poor Victor, can’t even score over a guy with a fucking mullet.

“Dean and I both put him on our freebie lists,” Tessa says, grinning wide.

“ _Really,_ ” Billie says, looking over at Dean.

Dean glares. “I added him as a _joke._ ”

“M _hmmm_.” Tessa is waggling her eyebrows.

“Well the boy is gay, so I’m thinking Dean has a better shot,” Billie says, reaching over to pat Tessa’s knee when Tessa starts pouting.

“I guess you’re right,” Tessa says with a big sigh, “maybe I should swap him out for Kelvin.”

“Nah, Kelvin’s engaged,” Victor says. Ketch gives him a _look_ , and Victor shrugs. “What? Lot of gossip rags in the break room.”

Kelvin and Castiel start walking in their direction, likely headed for the restroom or the exit.

“Now’s your chance,” Ketch says.

“Eat me,” Dean hisses. He can’t help but stare, though. Those are two really good looking dudes. Castiel glances in their direction as they pass, and Dean feels his insides do some weird god damn shit when they make eye contact. Castiel seems to slow, but maybe that’s just in Dean’s head. Then he hears it.

“You’re on my boyfriend’s freebie list!”

Nope. _Nope._

Castiel and Kelvin both stop walking, looking at each other, then at Dean’s group. They both point at themselves, the “me?” of the gesture obvious.

“You!” Tessa says, pointing. “Special Agent Emmanuel Allen!”

Kelvin grins, knocking Castiel with his shoulder so hard that Castiel stumbles a little. He says something Dean can’t hear, then continues on toward the exit. As he approaches Castiel has a small, curious smile on his face, a slight wobble to his steps, and barely flushed cheeks. He’s obviously a little tipsy and fairly amused by Tessa’s outburst.

Everyone sits up a little straighter as he gets closer, including Dean. The guy’s a _celebrity_ after all, even if Dean only watches Halo Project when Tessa makes him. The writing on that show is… not great. Every time Dean watches there seems to be a new love triangle.

“Did you say I was on your boyfriend’s freebie list?” Castiel says to Tessa. She’s blushing now, but she nods. “Ah, I see. That’s quite flattering, I should thank him. Is he here?”

Everyone turns to look at Dean. Assholes.

“That’s him, that’s Dean,” Ash says helpfully.

“He put you on his freebie list last month,” Victor adds.

Dean glares at Victor, seething with embarrassment. He’s never talking to any of these fucking people again, bunch of traitors. He startles when he realizes Castiel is in front of him, like _right_ in front of him.

Holy shit, his eyes are even prettier than they are on TV.

Everyone seems to be collectively holding their breath. The noise of the bar fades into nothing. The universe seems to be whispering to Dean that this moment is Significant.

But maybe that’s just because the last time Dean saw someone famous it was that guy from Food Network with the too-blonde hair and the ugly goatee.

“May I, Dean?” Castiel says quietly. His voice is a little softer than on TV, but still rough like Dean remembers from the few episodes of Halo Project he’s seen.

May he _what_? That’s what Dean wants to ask, but for some reason what comes out is, “Yeah.”

Castiel makes this soft, pleased sound, and the next thing Dean knows, there are two plush lips pressed against his.

Oh, oh _no._ It’s amazing. The angle’s a little odd, because Castiel is standing, leaning over where Dean is seated, but it’s good. Castiel’s lips are a soft, gentle pressure against Dean’s, and when Dean feels a tongue brush against his lips, he can’t help but obey the silent request. Somewhere, surely there are fireworks going off. Rockets. Explosions. A Jimmy Page guitar solo. _Something_.

Dean has no idea how much time passes before Castiel pulls back, but it feels like too soon.

“It was good to meet you, Dean,” Castiel says, and then he’s walking toward the exit.

Dean watches him walk away, gobsmacked, absently licking his lips. He tastes a Cosmopolitan, even though he wasn’t drinking one.

When Castiel is gone, and Dean finally looks back at his group, everyone is grinning.

Everyone except Tessa.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tessa is silent. Normally when she plays designated driver she makes a lot of jokes about crashing Dean’s beloved car, puts his radio on a country station, changes the angle of his seat and mirrors. Tonight she’s just driving, staring intently at the road.

There’s no music.

Every so often Tessa’s hands tighten on the wheel, but she says nothing, and Dean’s afraid opening his mouth will just piss her off more, so he stays quiet too. When they get home she storms right for the bedroom and slams the door, and Dean has to assume he’s not invited.

Yeah, they should have just gone to Harvelle’s.

It’s been awhile since Dean’s been stuck sleeping on the couch. Tessa’s name is on the apartment lease, which somehow means that even though they split the rent evenly, whenever they have a fight Dean is the one that ends up couching it. Last time was three months ago, when Dean stuffed the cable bill in the pocket of a jacket he didn’t wear for a month, just long enough for them to miss a payment and get a penalty. It wasn’t the missed payment that pissed Tessa off, it was Dean saying “I _told you_ we should just have direct deposit.” Dean only spent one night on the couch for that one.

The time before that was eleven months ago. The garage Dean was working at had folded, and Tessa had decided Dean should take an empty customer service job at her father’s company. Dean wasn’t into it, Tessa was insulted, and after a week sleeping alone on the couch Dean took the damn job.

Dean’s not sure how he’s going to get out of this one. Things have been stale and strained for weeks, _months,_ this is not a good time for a fight. Everything will fall apart, like it did with Josie, and Pam, and Lisa back in Lawrence.

He shouldn’t have let Castiel kiss him. He shouldn’t have let it go on so long. He knows. Freebie lists are all well and good, but no one really expects to be confronted with that opportunity. If Tessa had gone off to fuck one of the guys on her list… there’s no way Dean would have felt okay with that. Dean’s in the wrong here, he knows.

He’s just not sure how to apologize.

  


*

  


It’s been three days. Dean’s still sleeping on the couch, and Tessa’s still not talking to him. Every time Dean says “Tess, I’m sorry,” she storms away. She hasn’t dumped his ass though, that has to be a good sign.

“Alright, but how was it?”

Dean’s been relaying his woes to Sam for over half an hour, and that’s what the shithead comes back with? “How _was it_?”

“Well, yeah. How was the kiss?”

“What the hell does that matter?”

Sam shrugs and shovels a forkful of spinach into his giant mouth. “Just wondering,” he says around his mouthful.

“Dude, I don’t know, _fine_?” Dean says, annoyed.

It was more than fine. It was incredible. Dean hasn’t gone more than an hour without thinking about it for three fucking days.

“That’s it?”

“Who fucking cares!”

“Okay, you’re being really touchy about this.”

“Sam, I cheated on my girlfriend in front of her. In front of _everyone_. With a _guy_.”

“Oh, so that’s it, huh.”

“Sam—”

“Your buddies didn’t know you’re a flaming bisexual, and now you’re freaked out.”

Dean’s about to throw his glass of Coke in Sam’s face. “First of all, I don’t think a two week fling with Gordon in high school and a few bar hookups makes me a _flaming_ bisexual, second of all…” Dean sighs. “Yeah, they don’t know. Or didn’t. Or don’t. I don’t know, we didn’t really talk about it, but they probably know.”

“Okay, so? What, are you worried they’ll treat you different? Don’t you have a damn lesbian in your group?”

“Yeah, but… sometimes people are… weird about this shit, Sam. Some people are cool with gay women but not gay guys… some people think bisexuality is like… made up.”

“And when you say ‘some people’, you mean… Dad?”

“No. Shut up.”

“Dad was weird about Gordon for like… a _day,_ Dean.”

“Yeah, after I explained bisexuals to him and he realized I might still end up with a chick.”

“He’s old.”

“He’s not that old.”

“He’s older than your friends.”

“This doesn’t even _matter,_ Sam. Tessa’s my girlfriend.”

Sam nods. “Tessa’s your girlfriend.”

“Yeah.”

“Your girlfriend that’s pissed you kissed a guy and _super_ loved it.”

“He kissed _me,_ and I never said I loved it.”

“Well she wouldn’t be mad if you’d hated it.”

Dean shoves his plate to the side so he can slam his head down on Sam’s dining room table. It’s painful. “You’re right.”

“Look, Dean, I think you’re worrying about the wrong things here.”

“I shouldn’t be worrying about my girlfriend dumping my ass?”

“You should be worrying about how you got here. You let someone kiss you, maybe you wouldn’t have done that, if—”

Dean holds a hand up. “Oak tree.”

Sam stops talking immediately. He pouts, but nods. Oak tree is a sort of conversational safe word they came up with as kids, when talking about their parents and the divorce always seemed to lead to one brother storming away in frustrated tears. Since then it’s been used in other scenarios, like when Sam doesn’t want to talk about his dead college girlfriend, or when Dean doesn’t want to talk about the pair of pink panties Sam found in his dresser when Dean was in his twenties, or when Sam doesn’t want to talk about his thousands of dollars in debt for his unfinished law degree. “Oak tree” was chosen because when Dean was eleven he got so pissed about Sam’s questions about their parents’ separation he went out back and broke two fingers punching an oak tree.

Ah, childhood.

“So,” Sam says, in that awkward tone he has when they’re trying to reboot the conversation.

“So.”

“So, Tracy and I got back together,” Sam says, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

Dean nearly starts laughing. “Tracy? Tracy Bell? The _twenty year old_? The one Lisa used to babysit?”

“She’s not _twenty,_ ” Sam says, cheeks already turning pink. “She’s twenty-two. _Almost_ twenty-three.”

“Dude, that’s still a god damn decade younger than you.”

“She’s an old soul!”

“Does she still collect Hello Kitty merch?”

Sam buries his face in his hands. “Yes.”

“At least I know where you guys will register for the wedding.”

“Look, she’s fun, she likes me, and her roommate owns every video game console known to man.”

Dean smirks. “Maybe I should move back home, you’re definitely regressing.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “You sure you don’t just want to escape your girlfriend?”

“ _Oak tree,_ Sam.”

“Oak tree right back at you, jerk!”

“Bitch.”

They sit in silence for over a minute, picking at their food before Dean talks again.

“So does Tracy’s roommate have Super Smash Brothers, or what?”

  


*

  


As much as Dean wants to just crash in his brother’s dinky one-bedroom house in Lawrence, he has work in the morning. There’s no way he’s going to feel like waking up at six so he can be in Wichita by eight and work by eight-thirty so he can spend nine hours having his life force sucked away by people that think everything his company does wrong is his singular responsibility. Hard pass. At eight, he heads back to Wichita, Impala blasting AC/DC while Dean tries hard to forget about Castiel, actor on some terrible show that Dean doesn’t even like. Why couldn’t this at least be happening with the guy from Doctor Sexy? Now _that’s_ a compelling show.

When Dean gets home, the living room and kitchen are sparkling clean, which means Tessa was stress cleaning while he was gone. The bedding he left on the couch has been cleared away. Is that a good sign?

“Dean?” Tessa comes out of their bedroom, wringing her hands.

“Hey, uh… hey…” Dean’s too surprised she’s talking to him to say anything coherent.

“Can we just... forget about Friday? The past few days have been miserable, and I miss you… can we forget about it?”

Dean sags slightly, relieved. “Forget about what?” he says with a smile.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It’s been three weeks since The Incident, and things with Tessa are better, technically. Things are back to the way they were before the kiss, but not back to where they used to be. They’re both trying; Tessa buys Dean hot chocolate, even though it’s summer and she’s always thought it was weird that he drinks hot chocolate year round, and Dean keeps things cleaner around the house. They both say their “I love you”s before bed every night, even though Tessa always sounds uncertain and Dean’s not sure that he means it either.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss, though the memory has been examined both positively and negatively so many times that Dean’s not even sure he remembers it correctly anymore.

This isn’t right, he knows. Devoting this much time to thinking of someone else. Walking on eggshells in a life he was building with someone. Obviously passion eventually burns away to something slower, more familiar, that happens in any relationship. But it’s never been like this, like Dean and his partner were struggling to act the part of two people in love. When Dean’s relationships died before, there was always a _reason,_ it was always clear things needed to end. Gordon was less fun the more time Dean spent with him. Josie hated Sam. Lisa and Dean were better as friends. Pam wasn’t over her ex Jesse. This all feels slow and painful, like they’re holding onto this with both hands but neither of them knows why.

He knows Tessa is still mad about the kiss.

On Friday nights things feel alive, when they’re out with friends and there’s anywhere from two to seven buffers around, but when they’re alone… it’s weird.

Or maybe Dean’s just projecting.

Tonight they’re at Tessa’s favorite restaurant, sharing cocktails and waiting for their meals to arrive. It’s strained, Dean has no idea what to talk about other than annoying customers and Sam’s college-age girlfriend. Tessa’s in the middle of telling Dean about going to yoga with Ketch and Jo, and Dean can barely muster up the energy to be annoyed knowing Ketch will be gawking at Tessa in her yoga pants.

Tessa stops talking suddenly, and at first Dean thinks he maybe missed a question, but Tessa is staring past him, a frown on her face. Dean looks over his shoulder, and _oh God, no_.

Castiel Novak is sitting a few tables away, sipping at a drink while the two other men sitting with him appear to be fighting over the last breadstick in the basket on their table. Castiel seems to notice Dean almost immediately, and the amused smile he has grows to a grin as he raises his drink at Dean.

Dean turns back around immediately, embarrassed, and Tessa looks pretty fucking mad.

“You can call a cab, I’m leaving,” is all she says before she’s storming out of the restaurant. Dean knew he should have driven them here instead of taking her car.

He sighs, putting his hands in his face. This actor is going to ruin his life.

Dean looks up at the sound of a chair moving near him, dismayed to see it’s Castiel taking Tessa’s seat.

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” Dean grumbles, putting his face back in his hands.

“I apologize,” Castiel says gently, “I had no idea I’d caused any trouble at all.”

“Look, I’m sure in Hollywood everyone goes around making out with everyone, and open relationships are fine and dandy for the people they’re fine and dandy for, but Tessa and I are Tessa and I. No other people. She’s not cool with what happened.”

“My show films in Vancouver, not Hollywood,” Castiel says.

Dean looks at him again, wondering if the guy is being a dick or just clueless. “That’s so not the point.”

“I understand, I really do apologize. Perhaps if I could speak with Vanessa…”

“ _Tessa,_ and no, that definitely wouldn’t help.”

Castiel nods slowly. “I could kiss her too?”

“ _No._ ”

“I could—”

“Why are you even _in_ Wichita?”

“Well,” Castiel says, tapping his chin, “normally during filming hiatus I fly my family up to Vancouver for a few weeks, or take them on a vacation, but… this year I thought I’d come home.”

“Oh. Okay, well that’s a good reason,” Dean grumbles.

“Why are _you_ in Wichita?”

“What does that have to do with—”

“I’m just wondering. Did you grow up here?”

“No… I’m from Lawrence.”

Castiel smiles. “What brings you here?”

“Uh… dunno. Bad breakup. Needed some distance, and my friend Charlie was here, so I moved in with her for a while, then I was on my own for a couple years, then Tessa… I go back to Lawrence a lot though, my brother and my mom live there.” Why is he telling his life story to this guy?

Castiel nods like this is a regular conversation or something. “Ah, I have brothers as well. Well, step-brothers, but we grew up together. One lives here, the other lives in California… then I have a sister, she lives here. My fathers live here as well.”

“Fathers? Plural?”

“Never read my Wikipedia page? I thought I was your ‘Celebrity Freebie’,” Castiel says, making air quotes in an awkward if not endearing way.

“Tessa’s the big Halo Project fan, not me. I thought the show was... uh… anyway, so you got two dads?”

“Chuck Shurley, he’s my biological father, but then Marv is his husband. Two fathers.”

“And here I just have the one.”

“So, you don’t like Halo Project?”

Dean’s a little taken aback by the change of subject, but okay. “I mean no offense, but it’s not my cup of tea,” he says diplomatically. No need to tell the guy to his face that his show kind of sucks.

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Not your… cup of tea?”

“I mean some people just don’t like some shows, you know?”

“Go on.”

Alright, he asked for it. “The writing on that show is awful, man.”

Castiel lets out a sharp laugh, face splitting into a grin that’s gummy and adorable. Damn it. “Yes, yes it is,” Castiel says, nodding enthusiastically.

Dean’s server finally shows up with Dean’s steak tortellini and Tessa’s shrimp gnocchi, which gets set down in front of Castiel.

“Don’t suppose you’re hungry,” Dean says, frowning at Tessa’s plate, then glancing over at Castiel’s table.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Castiel says. “I believe this is a sign that I was not meant to have salad for dinner.”

“You ordered _salad_ for dinner? _Here_?”

Castiel sighs, dipping one finger into the gnocchi’s garlic parmesan cream sauce and letting out a tiny moan when he licks it off his finger. That _has_ to be on purpose. “I’m trying to lose weight,” he says sadly before unwrapping the silverware bundle left at Tessa’s place.

“Lose weight from _where_?” Dean asks, trying not to overtly gawk at Castiel and figure out where he’d lose weight from. He looks _good,_ as far as Dean can tell. Dean’s never really found polo shirts that exciting but the green one Castiel is wearing is kind of doing it for him.

“Stomach, thighs. Also supposed to dye my hair and look into botox,” Castiel says casually, like that’s something guys their age talk about all the time.

“Dye your hair?”

Castiel taps the short hairs above his right ear and below his temple. “Grey.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll have a wider variety of options if I don’t look like I’m pushing forty.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“How old is your character?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Then what’s—”

“I take it you didn’t watch the season finale.”

“Uh… Tessa kind of stopped watching the show, so…”

“Well, Agent Emmanuel Allen, former leader of Halo Project, is no more.”

Dean’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding. They _killed you off_? Aren’t you the main character?”

“I’m _one_ of the main characters, yes.”

“And they killed you off?”

“They wanted to shake things up, shift focus to younger characters,” Castiel says with a bored sigh.

“Hasn’t the show been on for like… six years?”

“Eight.”

“And they just kicked you off? Why aren’t you mad? If my boss fired me after eight years, I’d— actually bad example, I hate my job.”

“What’s your job?” Castiel says before he starts actively eating Tessa’s dinner.

“Uh, nothing interesting.”

“That’s no reason not to tell me.”

There’s just something about Castiel, something that makes Dean keep forgetting he’s pissed at the guy, something that makes Dean forget he’s kind of famous. Dean _wants_ to talk to him.

“Okay, well… Tessa’s dad owns a company that sells frozen mini deep dish pizzas,” Dean says, embarrassed. Castiel’s eyebrows go up immediately. “I work in customer service.”

“La Muerte’s Deep Dish Delights?” Castiel says, eyes lighting up.

Dean groans. “ _Yes_.”

“I loved those as a child. My sister and I always made them wrong, though.”

“Middle came out frozen?”

“Yes… always much better when my father made them.”

“Yeah, that’s like ninety percent of the calls I get. I used to think no one ever called those customer service numbers on the back of packaged food… I was _wrong,_ man.”

“Has the experience ruined the pizzas for you?”

“After a year working there, I can honestly say…” Dean grins. “No, it hasn’t. I fuckin’ love those things and I get them at a discount.”

Castiel nods thoughtfully. He leans forward, elbows on the table, a serious expression as he regards Dean. God, this guy is pretty.

“So,” Castiel says, “how do you cook them so they’re not frozen in the middle?”

  


*

  


They talk for nearly an hour. Castiel eats Tessa’s entire meal, and it’s only after that Dean realizes that maybe he should have gotten her food boxed up to go. Dean and Castiel each order a slice of Tiramisu, and when the bill comes, Dean accepts Castiel’s offer to pay. What the hell, might as well get a perk from having a c-list celebrity ruin his date.

There's a moment at the end where Dean feels like maybe they should be exchanging phone numbers, or whatever it is new friends do after a pleasant interaction, but he’s not really sure Castiel’s a friend, and Tessa would hate it anyway. For his part Castiel doesn’t ask, just thanks Dean for a lively conversation, and goes back to his table, where his dining companions are still seated and apparently thumb wrestling with a disproportionate amount of passion.

Dean’s glad to be away from Castiel. The longer they’d talked, the more Dean felt… _drawn_ to him. There was this weird thing in the air. Chemistry, maybe. Every smile made Dean’s heart skip a little, which isn’t great. Well, it _is_ great, it’s a great feeling. But, no. Dean’s been cheated on before, he knows how much it hurts. He’s not— he’s not that guy. He’s not going to go fucking fall for someone else, or kiss other people or… he’s not going to be that guy.

Dean walks outside, and… oh.

Right.

He didn’t drive here. Okay, that’s unfortunate.

He’s lurking by the entrance to the restaurant, scrolling through cab companies on his phone when Castiel comes out, flanked by his friends.

“Hey, it’s Cassie’s new _lover,_ ” the shorter of the two men says, nudging Castiel so hard he staggers and bumps into the other man.

“Dean has a girlfriend,” Castiel says. He smiles at Dean. “These are my step-brothers, Gabriel and Michael. Gabriel has a big mouth.”

“He only calls us his step-brothers when he’s annoyed,” Gabriel says, smirking.

“Did you forget something, Dean?” Castiel says, ignoring Gabriel.

“Uh, forgot that my ride left. Just about to call Jiffy Cab, I think.”

“Jiffy Cab? If Missouri is manning the phones tonight, tell her Gabriel says ‘wassup’,” Gabriel says with a leer. Dean’s actually met Missouri Mosely, she’d snap Gabriel like a twig if he so much as smiled at her the wrong way.

Castiel waves at Gabriel distractedly. “I’ll see you later, Gabriel.”

“And _me,_ ” Michael says, offended. He leads Gabriel off to the parking lot, but Castiel’s not watching them, he’s watching Dean.

“Do you need a ride?”

Dean shakes his head, probably a little too hard. “Nah, it’s cool. I’m not that far, it’ll only be like twenty bucks.”

“Dean, don’t be silly, I have a car, I—”

“I uh, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Dean tries, feeling awkward. Castiel’s disappointment is visible, and Dean feels his heart twist painfully. “I mean I had a really good time talking to you, but… with the way we met, I don’t think—”

Castiel nods. “I understand. I wish… I wish we could have met differently, in that case.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, but Castiel’s already walking away so it probably doesn’t matter.

  


*

  


“So he _ate my dinner_?”

“I’m sorry, Tess, I didn’t realize how… I didn’t think about how that would look.”

Tessa’s on the couch, angrily eating Dean’s bag of his favorite beef jerky. That shit costs twelve dollars, why couldn’t she eat something— okay, there are bigger things to worry about here. Even though she’s probably eating it to piss Dean off.

“I promise nothing happened.”

Tessa glares. “I know that. But you didn’t have to give him my dinner.”

“You didn’t have to _leave_.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I’m not handling this with more _grace,_ Dean, I just…” Tessa looks up at Dean, and her eyes are so full of something Dean can’t understand. They’ve been dating for over three years and here in this moment Dean can’t even read her.

“I keep feeling like I was humiliated when that kiss happened, even though I wasn’t. I feel like a fool. My boyfriend kissed another man in front of me.”

Dean sits on the couch, a few inches away. “Is it the kiss part, or the man part?”

“Honestly?” Tessa’s looking away now, so Dean knows the answer. “The man part.”

“Would it have been better or worse if Castiel had been a woman?”

“I don’t know. Different. I feel like… Dean, it seemed like you liked the kiss. Did you?” Dean starts to answer, but Tessa holds up a hand. “No, don’t answer that. Answer this instead. Are you into guys, Dean? We’ve joked about it, but we never...”

Dean frowns. Damn, they’re gonna do this. “I’m uh… I’m attracted to guys, yeah.”

“Have you ever dated a guy?”

“Kind of. For a couple weeks, back in high school.”

That seems to make Tessa relax, and Dean doesn’t understand why. “Have you ever slept with a guy?”

“Yeah, uh… a few. The guy in high school, and uh… and after I first moved out of Lawrence, I hooked up with a few guys. Rebound stuff, I guess. I mean I know now that Pam and I wouldn’t have worked, but back then I felt fucked up enough to move, and—” Dean sighs. “Yeah, I’ve slept with a guy.”

“Anyone that… anyone that we know?”

“No… and it was so long ago I probably wouldn’t recognize any of them on the street.” Except Gunner Lawless. That guy was built like a truck, fucked very much like an aging wrestler on steroids, and Dean couldn’t sit comfortably for a week.

“Do you miss it?”

Oh, Jesus. Not this. “Tess, no. I’m not like… craving dick.”

Tessa’s eyes are a little watery, now. “But what if you started to?”

“It’s not like that, Tess. All of my… my substantial relationships have been with women, and not once did I run off to go fuck a guy.”

“What if I’m not _enough_?”

“No… no, that’s not... for me, it’s more like… no matter what someone’s packing downstairs, that’s not going to be a deal breaker. Who I’m into is just who I’m into.”

Tessa looks confused, embarrassed. “Sorry, Dean. It’s not like I’ve never met any gay people, but this is different, and we’re living together, and—”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wish I could say I never brought it up because it didn’t matter, but honestly I just didn’t want to worry about scaring anyone away.”

“And you thought I couldn’t deal with it.”

“No— no, I didn’t think that. But it was always a possibility… sometimes people think they’re fine with bisexuals until they realize they aren’t.”

“So you thought I couldn’t deal with it.”

“I didn’t want to find out.”

Tessa nods slowly.

“I don’t want you to think you’re not enough just because I’m also attracted to men. Tess, we have a life together.”

Tessa relaxes again, this time smiling. “Yeah.” She sighs, putting the package of jerky on the coffee table. She takes a deep, long breath and smiles. “Well, maybe it’ll be cool having a celebrity friend. Can he introduce me to Jon Hamm?”

“We’re not friends, and there’s no way he knows Jon Hamm.”

Tessa picks up a bottle of beer from the coffee table… damn it, that’s one of Dean’s too. “Maybe the other people from Halo Project, then.”

“Don’t know about that, since he got killed off,” Dean says, wincing when he gets a spray of beer on his arm.

“Emmanuel _died_?!”

  


*

  


  


The thing is, once again, things don’t really get better. They fight less, Tessa’s gone back and watched the episodes of Halo Project that she missed, but it’s still all wrong between them, as it has been since before Castiel showed up.

Tessa promised she’d let Dean tell their group about his sexuality in his own time, but sometimes these days Ketch looks at Dean with a little too much consideration, and Dean just fucking knows that he knows, and he’s being a judgy little fuck about it.

“You really need to like, get over your weird thing with him.”

“I don’t have a weird thing.”

It’s a Wednesday evening, Charlie and Dean are on Dean’s couch playing Mario Kart on Dean’s old Super Nintendo while Tessa is out with Jo and Ketch.

“You’ve hated his guts since you saw him checking out Tessa’s ass.”

“I was sitting right fucking there and he was _staring,_ Charlie.”

“I was staring too, she knows how to work a miniskirt.”

Dean glares and steals the bag of Cheetos Charlie is holding. “Do you want to be on my shitlist too?”

“I’m just saying, it’s been months of the hairy eyeball, and if you think you’re being subtle, you’re not.”

“Why are you taking _his_ side?”

“I’m not taking his side, I don’t even _like_ Arty McFarty,” Charlie says, so casually Dean has to wonder how often she refers to Ketch as “Arty McFarty”. “But I hate seeing you stress about him, and I’m tired of the gossip in the group.”

Dean drives right off the edge of Rainbow Road and almost throws his controller. “Who the hell is gossiping about me?”

“Uh, everyone? Friends discuss other friends, dude. _We’re_ doing it right now.”

“Okay, but what are they saying?”

“Holy shit are we back in high school? Basically people are wondering if something _happened_ between Tessa and Ketch and that’s why you’re always all tense and jealous when they talk.”

“No, nothing happened. I just hate how he looks at her, and I hate how he doesn’t give a shit about how god damn obvious he’s being. It doesn’t matter that nothing’s happening between them, he’s still being a dick.”

“Alright, well I won’t argue with that. But don’t turn into some possessive little shit, okay? I don’t want to be embarrassed to know you.”

“Yeah, yeah… I think Tessa told him that I’m bi.”

Dean can see Charlie’s head whip around to face him out of the corner of his eye, but he keeps his focus on the game.

“ _Are you_ bi? I mean I know you didn’t exactly projectile vomit when Castiel Novak kissed you, but hell I’m gayer than Christmas and still jealous that you got to kiss him.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“ _How_ did I not know this?” Charlie sounds pretty offended, which is fair. They’ve been friends since high school, when Charlie was in his class for all of two months before her parents died and she left Lawrence to live with her aunt here in Wichita.

“Dunno, I can say a lot of bullshit about how it wasn’t anyone’s business, or it didn’t matter, but I guess it was just fear, and maybe projecting like… internalized homophobia.”

“Biphobia.”

“Is that a word?”

Charlie’s Toad has three red shells, one of which she fires right into Dean. “Of course it’s a word.”

“I was never ashamed of it really, but it didn’t seem worth worrying about, I guess. I mean if I’d fallen in love with a dude, then I wouldn’t have kept it a secret, but…”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Kissed my first guy not long after you moved away, actually.”

“What? Who?”

“Gordon Walker.”

Charlie’s silent for a minute, likely trying to remember who the hell Gordon Walker is. “Tall, dark skin, kind of super unfriendly?”

“Yeah, we were a thing for all of two weeks.”

“He doesn’t seem like your type at _all_.”

“Oh _really,_ who’s my type?”

“Dunno. Guys like Vic? Ash, even? Guys you can kick back and have a beer with. Or… or sexy C-list TV stars.”

“Oh we’re so not going there. Forget it.”

Charlie sighs. “You’re no fun. Do you really think Tessa _outed_ you to Ketch?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, she was all freaked out that her uh… _parts_ weren’t enough for me, a bisexual.”

Charlie laughs and shakes her head. “I was like that when I was younger. My first girlfriend was bi, and I broke up with her because I was _sure_ that sooner or later she’d leave me for a guy. It’s dumb, but Tessa’s a smart woman, she’ll get past that.”

“Yeah, she seemed like she understood that I’m not just going to leave for a good dicking…”

“A good _dicking_?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, so why do you think she told Ketch?”

Dean lets his car slow down, he’s not going to reach Charlie anyway. He leans back against the couch with a sigh. “Just a feeling, I guess. Could be projecting. He… I don’t know, looks at me differently lately.”

“Are you worried he’ll out you?”

“Kind of.”

“But why? No one in our group would stop being your friend, you know. And anyone that would… well fuck them.”

“There’s no real reason for people not to know, I guess. But it’s not his fucking business to share.”

“That’s definitely true. Well if he does, no one’s going to care. Jo will swear she knew it, even if she didn’t, Vic and Ash will probably ask which of them you think is hotter, Mick will cry and hug you and tell you how proud he is of you, and that’ll be that.”

“I guess.”

“And he’ll look like a total dick for sharing information that wasn’t his to share.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that.”

  


*

  


The problem is, the group is Tessa’s, not Dean’s. He may have known Charlie a little longer, but by the time he moved to Wichita she definitely had a solid group, and Tessa was part of that group. Mick, Ketch, Jo, Vic, Ash, even Charlie… they’re Tessa’s people first and foremost. And Dean likes them a lot… except for god damn Ketch, of course. Sometimes when he thinks about maybe ending things with Tessa, their group is what stops him. He doesn’t know what that would do to their dynamic. If people would pick sides, if he’d lose all his friends. He doesn’t want that.

God, that’s a terrible fucking reason to stay in a relationship with someone.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next time Dean sees Castiel is nearly four weeks after their odd dinner together. The Orpheum Theatre is showing Clerks, and for once Dean’s at a movie alone. Not a big deal, really, sometimes he just feels like being alone.

There aren’t many people in the theater, Thursday evenings aren’t exactly big nights, so Dean has an entire row to himself. The movie is halfway through when Dean becomes aware that someone is moving through the row in his direction. His hackles go up a little, there’s plenty of space to sit, he doesn’t want anyone plopping down next to him. The person _does_ sit next to him, though. _Right_ next to him. Dean doesn’t know whether or not he should acknowledge them, but he’s feeling awkward and tense until the person speaks.

“Hello, Dean.”

Shivers work their way down Dean’s spine. “Agent,” he says, hoping his voice has some humor to it. He waits for Castiel to say more, but he doesn’t. He just sits back, watches the screen, and periodically holds his bag of popcorn over for Dean.

That’s it.

And the movie is over, Castiel mutters “Have a good night, Dean,” and slips out of the row as quickly as he came.

He wonders if this is something he should tell Tessa about.

Nothing happened. They didn’t talk, didn’t really touch. They watched part of a movie and ate some popcorn. Is that worth reporting? Would it be better or worse to be honest? Dean debates this the entire drive home, taking his time walking up the two flights of stairs to his apartment.

Tessa’s on the couch when he walks in, feet propped up on the coffee table. Her fingernails and toenails are painted blood red.

“Hey,” she says, looking up from what looks to be a tabloid, “you just missed Billie and April.”

“Well, I hate April, so I’m okay with that,” Dean grouses. April is fucking terrible.

“I know, I know, but she heard me and Billie talking about doing a salon trip and somehow ended up coming with.”

“She still on probation for _stabbing a guy_?”

Tessa rolls her eyes. “You know that was an accident.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well did _you_ have a good time?”

Here it is, moment of truth.

“Yeah, it was uh… it was kind of weird,” Dean says, sitting on the couch. He’s assuming they didn’t get their nails done _here,_ and yet the living room reeks of nail polish.

“Yeah? Was the movie suddenly in color this time?”

“Uh, Castiel Novak was there.”

Tessa’s smile freezes on her face a little, but it doesn’t fade. “More than one person paid to watch something that’s available on Netflix?”

“It’s a _classic_.”

“How was he?”

“Dunno, we didn’t talk. He shared his popcorn with me, though.”

“Ah, so a friend for life.”

“I don’t think so, we literally didn’t talk. It was kind of awkward, actually. But…”

“But he had popcorn.”

Dean sighs, but Tessa’s still smiling so he plays along. “I’m weak.”

“It’s alright, baby, I know.”

  


*

  


The next time Dean sees Castiel, it’s just a few days later. It’s his turn to do the grocery shopping, and he’s at the farmer’s market. It’s the sort of thing he used to scoff at until the first time he tasted farm fresh strawberries and every grocery store strawberry he ate after tasted like lies.

He hasn’t cooked in ages and he’s craving his grandmother’s spaghetti sauce, a recipe he’s mastered if Sam is to be believed. He can already taste the marinara… his grandma’s secret was to throw a carrot in with the sauce to absorb some of the acidity of the tomatoes; it always makes the sauce a little bit sweet, too.

He’s just finished filling his tiny cart with tomatoes when he sees Castiel. He’s dressed in khaki shorts, a baseball tee, and sunglasses. Maybe it’s a disguise or some shit… this is an indoor market. He’s standing with a woman who has an arm linked with his. Dean feels a hot curl of jealousy at the sight, which is ridiculous because Dean has a girlfriend. And Castiel is gay. And _Dean has a girlfriend_. Fuck. Castiel doesn’t seem to have noticed Dean, which leaves Dean plenty of time to do the adult thing: abandon his cart and go to another market twelve miles away.

  


*

  


Two weeks after that, Dean’s buying a pre-work hot chocolate at the Starbucks across the street from his office, as he almost always does on Mondays. Castiel is there, sitting at a table with the woman from the farmer’s market and looking like something chewed him up and spit him out. He’s got on _pajamas_ with little reindeer all over them in fucking _July,_ along with a baseball cap , a beige trench coat, and a pair of sunglasses.

Dean’s not exactly a morning person, but seeing Castiel in that state makes it easier to feel like one.

“Hey,” he says, sauntering over with his hot chocolate in one hand, phone in the other, “how much you think the tabloids would give me for this pic?”

Castiel just barely lifts his head up from the table, groaning at the sight of Dean. “Go away, I don’t want you to see me like this.”

The woman looks confused, then her eyes light up. “Ohh, is this _Dean_?”

 

 

 _Don’t blush don’t blush don’t blush_.

“ _Hannah_ ,” Castiel says, voice a cocktail shaker filled with loose gravel and despair.

“What _happened_ to you?” Dean says, feeling like it’s better for both of them if he doesn’t address that.

“He’s hungover,” Hannah says cheerfully.

“Drinking? On a _Sunday,_ Cas? That’s God’s day, you’ve angered God.”

Castiel makes some sort of grotesque growling burping sound, and Hannah rubs his back. “A few of his castmates blew into town this weekend, there was a lot of drinking. Our house looks like a bomb went off.”

“Oh, you uh… live together?”

“Hannah’s my sister,” Castiel grumbles.

“He’s staying with me while he has his midlife crisis,” Hannah coos, rubbing Castiel’s hair. Castiel tries to bat her hand away, but his movements are slow and pathetic. “And he’s going to get some coffee in him and come with me to work today, aren’t you, big brother?”

Castiel makes a few unintelligible whines before answering. “I hate you.”

Dean grins at Hannah. “Where do you work?”

“I teach third grade over at Ellsworth Elementary.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks from Hannah, to Castiel, to Hannah again. “You’re gonna bring him in looking like that? Poor guy.”

“I have no choice, this was scheduled weeks ago,” Hannah says, hand a little rougher, eyes narrowing a bit. “Perhaps if someone had remembered his commitments, he wouldn’t have gotten hammered, and then he wouldn’t be heading into a room full of noisy children while nursing a migraine.”

“Please just let me cancel,” Castiel says, face now pressed into the table.

“No. You’re going to finish your coffee, then you’re changing into your suit in the bathroom, and then you’re going to come tell all the kids about how fun it is to be an actor, and remind them to work hard, and take lots of pictures.”

Castiel groans in response.

“Well, as much as I would pay good money to watch this unfold, I’ve got a demeaning customer service job to get to.” Dean pats Castiel hard on the back, and Castiel lets out some sad wounded whimper.

He turns to leave, grinning when he hears Hannah declare “I think he really likes you!”.

  


*

  


Tessa laughs when Dean tells her about it; it seems genuine.

  


*

  


The next time Dean sees Castiel, it’s only two days later. He’s driving home from work, idling at an intersection when he sees Castiel sitting on a bus bench, looking annoyed. He also looks sweaty, he’s wearing jogging clothes. Snug jogging clothes. Ugh. This is fucking ridiculous, Castiel is suddenly _everywhere._

The stoplight turns green, and instead of continuing toward his apartment Dean makes a right and pulls over next to the bus stop.

“Hey baby, you looking for a good time?” Dean hollers from his car. Castiel glares at first, but when he recognizes Dean his eyes widen and he bites his lower lip. It’s probably not a sexual thing, but it’s making Dean have some sexual thoughts. He rises from the bench and comes to the curb. He looks to be limping a bit.

“As a matter of fact,” he says, voice low and flirty, “no.”

Dean snorts. “Need a ride somewhere, cowboy?” he says, reaching over and shoving the passenger door open.

Castiel gets in immediately, pulling the door closed with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” he says, holding up his palms, which look a bit scratched and scuffed. “I twisted my ankle and fell.”

“Oh, youch.”

“The old woman who helped me up told me her granddaughter was a big fan of me, and that not to worry, she wouldn’t tell little Becky that I fell down like that.”

“I’m not supposed to laugh, right?” Dean says, grinning when Castiel’s expression sours. “Alright, alright. Where to?”

“Home, I suppose. I’m up in Crown Heights.”

“Ohh, _fancy,_ ” Dean says, pulling away from the curb.

“It’s not really my house,” Castiel says, “it’s Hannah’s house. Though I suppose I did buy it.”

“Yeah? Making good money over there on the heavenly love triangle show?”

“You know the show’s name. And… I was. I’m not now.”

“Because you were fired?”

Castiel sighs. “I was written out.”

“That’s fired. Do you get unemployment?”

“I have to assume I’ve made too much money for that…”

“Plus you have to be actively seeking work, and I don’t see you booking many jobs in _Wichita_.”

“I don’t really want another job,” Castiel says blandly. Dean glances over at him, he’s staring out the window looking wistful. “That’s a secret, though. Don’t tell anyone about that.”

“Why is it a secret? If I didn’t have to worry about money I wouldn’t be dragging my ass to the customer service line every day.”

“I haven’t told my agent, or my friends in California, or my friends in Vancouver. They think I’m taking a few months off to relax.”

“But you’re just… done.”

“I think so. Maybe. I hate to close any doors for good. I certainly don’t want to be one of those actors that makes a big deal about getting out of acting and then a year later they’re back booking jobs.”

“Well… what do you want to do if you’re not acting?”

“I don’t know… something with animals? I used to like the idea of having some cute little shop somewhere… selling things like pastries, or bath blends, or something equally quaint.”

“Bath blends? Not very manly.”

Castiel snorts. “Believe it or not, Dean, I’m not all that concerned with what others think of my masculinity.”

“Yeah, uh… probably easier that way.”

Dean can feel Castiel’s eyes on him, but thankfully Castiel doesn’t acknowledge it. Some of that dumbass toxic masculinity shit is hard to let go of, even years after Dean learned what toxic masculinity was in the first place.

They’re both silent for a while, but eventually Dean reaches the Crown Heights area and Castiel has to give him directions. God damn this is far from where Dean found Castiel, did that guy really jog all that god damn way and plan to jog back?

It’s not long before Dean’s pulling up in front of a welcoming looking brick house, where Hannah is out front, laughing and spraying a flailing child with a hose.

“Well this is wholesome as fuck,” Dean says.

“Hannah had Hael out of wedlock, if that helps,” Castiel says. Dean looks over and his brows are furrowed. “Don’t tell Hannah I said that.”

“My brother’s dating a chick eleven years younger than him,” Dean says. Castiel looks startled and confused, and Dean smiles. “So we’re even with things we shouldn’t be saying about our siblings.”

“That’s kind of sweet.”

Hannah and Hael finally notice the large noisy car idling on the sidewalk and wave.

“Well,” Castiel says, looking… sad, maybe. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the ride. The one time I don’t bring my phone with me, and… anyway, thank you.”

“No problem… even though I think you’re fucking nuts for jogging this time of day.”

“It’s been said.”

Dean nods and grins, once again ignoring the feeling that he should get Castiel’s phone number or something. “You need help getting out?”

“Oh no, I’ll be fine. Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says softly.

“See you around, Cas.”

“It certainly seems like you will.”

  


*

  


Wichita is a pretty big city, Dean should _not_ be running into Castiel this much. This time it’s a Saturday night, Dean is out playing pool with Ash, Mick, Victor, and Ketch at a bar a handful of miles away from Harvelle’s, which is too crowded tonight.

He looks pretty drunk, he’s dancing to the shit country song playing with a dark haired woman Dean doesn’t recognize and some guy that’s getting ridiculously handsy with Castiel for a guy in a dive bar in Wichita. There’s a couple people looking at them in disgust, and one girl might be a fan because she’s taking a video with her phone and looks fucking _thrilled,_ but most people don’t care. Dean leans against his pool stick, watching while Ketch takes his sweet fucking time lining up his next shot.

Castiel doesn’t seem to mind the fact that he’s being felt up by some guy, and Dean has no idea how the woman plays into this, but she certainly seems to be part of their dance. Castiel looks happy, eyes closed as his hips sway sinuously to the music, rocking back into the guy he’s dancing with. Jesus Christ, get a fucking room.

“You want to join them, or are you going to make your move?” Ketch says, voice frosty.

Dean startles, looking down at their pool table. There’s three fewer balls on the green, when did that happen? “Bathroom, Vic can take my place,” he says curtly, handing his cue to Victor before making a beeline for the bathroom. Dean doesn’t actually have to pee, but once he’s out of the pool table’s line of sight he does creep closer to where Castiel’s dancing.

He’s curious… that’s all. He’s curious.

He’s just curious about Castiel dancing with this man. Curious about how their hips are moving in sync, and the man’s lips are starting to ghost up the back of Castiel’s neck while the woman practically twirls in a circle around them. Jesus, do these people think they’re at a rave? Who gets this into Garth Brooks? The song finally ends, and just like that, so does the dance. Castiel separates from his dancing partner, smiling something bright and carefree as he shakes the man’s hand, then the woman’s. Dean can’t hear what’s said, but Castiel doesn’t seem to actually know these people. In fact, the man and the woman both go sit down at a booth, and Castiel makes his way to the exit, stumbling just a little as he goes. All of forty seconds pass before Dean groans and follows.

When he gets outside, he looks back and forth a few times before spotting Castiel making his way down the sidewalk, legs unsteady. He’s fiddling with his phone, and as Dean gets closer he realizes Castiel is singing the theme song for Halo Project under his breath.

“Cas, hold up!” Dean yells. Castiel nearly falls over as he stops, face splitting into a grin when he sees Dean.

“ _Dean_ , what a surprise! Where did you come from?”

“The bar, you jackass, I just watched your drunk ass stumble off alone.”

“Headed home.”

“You are _miles_ from your house, and drunk as shit.”

“I thought…” Castiel sighs, looking up. “It’s such a lovely night out, I thought I might walk until I get tired and then find an Uber…”

“You’re going to get mugged or something,” Dean says.

“I can fight,” Castiel says with a grin, giving Dean a few light hits to the arm. “Stage fight training, regular fight training, karate classes when I was a child.”

“You’re still gonna get mugged.” Dean puts an arm around Castiel, steering him towards the bar’s parking lot. “Come on, let me drive you home.”

“Dean, I’ll be fine, really.”

“How am I gonna feel if I let you go home alone and you get your ass beat by some meth head?”

Castiel sighs, leaning against Dean and letting Dean guide him toward the Impala. “Very well.”

Before Dean knows it, he’s got Castiel strapped in the passenger seat and he’s pulling away from the bar. At least he knows where he’s headed. It’s pretty dark inside the car, but that doesn’t stop Castiel from attempting to rifle through Dean’s glove compartment.

“You _really_ can’t hold your booze, you know that?” Dean says, slapping at Castiel’s hand.

“It’s ridiculous, really. When I was younger I had quite the tolerance, but… years of filming and avoiding alcohol and the empty calories that came with… I didn’t drink all that often the past few years.”

“So now you’re what, making up for lost time at random dive bars? Cas, this ain’t Canada and it ain’t California.”

“Wichita is not Canada or California, that’s true… though I don’t understand why that needed to be stated.”

Dean sighs. “I mean… not everyone is open minded, this is a red state after all. Getting your jollies on the dance floor would probably be safer at a gay bar.”

“Ah, you saw me dancing.”

“Dry humping’s more like it.”

“Are you _jealous,_ Dean?” Castiel teases.

Yes. “No, of course not,” Dean says.

“I suppose I did get carried away. Bartholomew and Ruby were nice though… but they wanted me to, ah… they were looking to take things further than I was interested in taking them,” Castiel says.

Dean hopes it’s too dark to see him blushing. “I can’t say I exactly know you well, but what I saw at the bar… didn’t seem like you.”

“It’s me, and it’s not me.”

“That’s cryptic, thanks.”

“I feel… out of sorts. I suppose I have for months, but it didn’t really _truly_ reach me until my castmates came to visit.”

“Why then?”

“I knew I was off the show, I knew that part of my life was now over… but seeing everyone and realizing they’re about to start filming, and I’m not… I worked with those people for eight years. It’s a lot to have change.” Castiel doesn’t sound drunk anymore, he just sounds sad.

“I’ve had acting jobs before Halo Project, but this was my first starring role. I was in every episode, filming more than at least half the cast. It was… my show. Our show. And now that’s over, because I’ve gotten too old, because my character has grown stale. I thought of the show as my home for so long I suppose I forgot it was a business.”

“Damn, Cas.”

“I don’t know where to go from here. Do I try to do movies? Do I hope to get another show? Do I wisely invest my money and never work another day in my life? All these questions that I was ignoring for the most part until the visit, and now I feel… rudderless and _old_ and every day I feel like I’m forgetting something, that there’s somewhere I’m supposed to be… but it’s only my body thinking I need to roll out of bed and into the makeup trailer.”

God, Dean wants to hug this guy. “You need a distraction. But… but like a better one than getting your groove on at bars. I mean do it if you want, just don’t do it thinking it’ll fill a void, because it won’t.”

“Voice of experience?”

“A breakup that I handled kind of terribly. I mean I know that’s not the same as losing your footing in the world but…”

“Loss is loss.”

“I guess.”

“So… what helped you get through your breakup?”

“Well the one night stands didn’t do a damn thing,” Dean says sadly. “I mean they were fun but they didn’t fix nothin’. What helped was making friends out here, getting a job I liked, and burning all of Pam’s shit.”

“I thought you didn’t like your job.”

“Different job. I was a mechanic, but the company folded… that’s when Tess made me get a job with her dad. Well she didn’t _make me,_ you know what I mean.”

“I suppose.”

“Ugh… I don’t know what I’m getting at, here.”

“You don’t think I should be sexually promiscuous in low scale bars.”

“No, I—” Dean’s jaw clamps shut. Suddenly he’s genuinely _not_ sure of his own motivation. After all, why should he care if a grown man wants to have some fun? “Forget what I said, Cas. Just do things that make you happy until… until you feel better.”

“Dean?”

“But uh… y’know stick to gay bars, man. Anywhere else is a dice roll, found that out myself once.” Castiel doesn’t say anything, but Dean can feel him staring. “ _What_?”

“I didn’t realize that you, uh… um… with men.”

“Yeah well it’s not common knowledge out here.”

“So… me being on your… freebie list, that wasn’t a joke?”

Dean nearly drives off the fucking road. “It _was_ a joke, Jesus fucking Christ. Just cause I’m bi doesn’t mean I wanna jump your bones for fuck’s sake.”

“Because I’m old,” Castiel says with a sigh.

Dean reaches over and smacks Castiel over the back of the head. “You know it’s not like that, don’t be that kind of drunk.”

“I can’t believe you just hit me.”

“My brother hits me on the head all the time. That’s how Winchesters show love.”

“Love?”

“Or… or annoyance, or whatever, shut up man,” Dean stammers, incredibly grateful to see Castiel’s street. As he pulls up to Hannah’s house, he considers giving Castiel his phone number for real this time. As a friend.

Then it hits him.

His phone.

He left it on the pool table after checking his Facebook. His phone is still at the bar. His _friends_ are still at the bar. His friends saw him staring at Castiel, and then Dean just disappeared. Fucking fuck, it’s been at least half an hour. Dean’s a fucking idiot, there’s no way Ketch hasn’t already told Tessa about this. Fuck.

“Thank you for the ride,” Castiel says, patting Dean’s hand on the wheel.

“Yeah, uh… uh no problem, Cas. Take care, okay? And next time you go to a bar bring a buddy.”

Castiel chuckles. “Will do.”

Dean watches Castiel walk up the paved path to the house, cold dread settling in his bones. He fucked up good this time.

 


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Dean gets back to the bar, his friends are gone, and so is his phone. That’s fucking great. Awesome. There’s nowhere to go but home, and the chances of Tessa not knowing are slim.

And even if they weren’t slim, it’d be a pretty shitty thing for Dean to hide.

Fuck, fucking fuck.

  
  


*

 

When Dean gets home, Tessa’s on the couch looking grim. Dean’s phone is on the coffee table. Yep, this is going to suck.

He closes the door behind him, and the sound sends despair-filled shivers through his body.

“Tess—” he starts, but Tessa holds up her hand, shaking her head.

“I know what you’re going to say. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing _did_ happen.”

“Ketch said that—”

“ _Ketch_? Of course. Of fucking course, Ketch.”

“Don’t start with that Dean, don’t make this about him.”

Dean’s jaw clicks shut. She’s right, deflecting is the wrong play. “Alright, what did he say?”

“That you were _staring_ at Castiel, then followed him outside and just disappeared.”

“I followed a drunk person outside out of concern, and then I drove him home when he told me he wanted to _walk_ to Crown Heights from fucking seven miles away while drunk,” Dean says, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“You could have called him a taxi, you could have let him go, you could have at least come back to the bar and told the guys you were leaving. But you didn’t. You just took off and did God knows what—”

“No. You can be mad at me, but don’t imply that I was off cheating on you when you know _damn_ good and well that I wasn’t.”

“That’s just it Dean, I don’t. That’s the problem. That’s the problem with all of this!” Tessa shouts, standing up. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t know how to _make myself_ trust you, and you don’t trust me either.”

Dean recoils, feeling like Tessa just reached over and backhanded him. Fuck. Fuck, it hurts. It’s true, and it hurts.

“I kissed Arthur.”

For a second Dean genuinely has no idea who the fuck “Arthur” is, and then a cold roll of nausea clobbers him. “When,” he says, voice so thin he has to repeat himself to be sure Tessa heard him.

“Tonight. When he dropped off your phone.”

Dean nods. Okay, this hurts. It hurts, but… but it’s not unsalvageable. “Look, that’s good, then. We both fucked up, Tess. We’re even, we can just—”

“I need a break, Dean.”

And there it is. The words that have been coming for months. “Tess…”

“I’m not saying it’s over, but… but I need a break. I need to rest, and sort myself out, and… I think we should take a break, see other people.”

“See other people? Tess, we _live together_. And I don’t need to see other people.”

“Well I do.”

“You mean like Ketch.”

“This isn’t about him, like at all, Dean.”

“It’s sure as shit not _not_ about him.”

“It’s about us, and whether we’re right for each other. No, not even that, whether we make each other happy.”

“We love each other,” Dean tries, even though that statement almost feels like a lie at this point.

“I need this, Dean. I need space, and I’m not saying it has to be permanent, but—”

Dean feels tears coming, he’s not going to change Tessa’s mind, he needs this conversation to be over. “Okay. Okay, we’ll take a break. I’ll uh… I’ll go stay with Sam, or… or something.”

Tessa sighs with what sounds suspiciously like relief. Her eyes are watering too. “Okay. So… so we’re on a break now.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, nodding slowly. “I guess we are.”

  
  


*

  
  


Dean’s never lived with a romantic partner before. Things never quite got to that level with his other exes, except with Pamela, but Pamela kept putting things off, then she cheated on Dean with her ex, then she broke up with Dean. They’ve made their peace since then. Dean more or less forgave Pamela for cheating, Pamela more or less forgave Dean for burning her favorite leather jacket. They even talk if they spot each other when Dean’s in Lawrence. But, it’s fair to say that some of Dean’s insecurity and jealousy stems from that time of broken trust, years ago.

Since he’s never lived with a romantic partner before, he’s never had to deal with a situation remotely like this. Tessa’s left to Charlie’s for a couple of hours, time for Dean to gather “whatever he wants”, which is vague. They’re not breaking up, so Dean doesn’t need to pack up his entire life, but he’s also being like… banished or some shit. So… work clothes— oh Jesus, what’s Tessa’s father going to say? Nope, not thinking about that. Pack. Clothes, some books, the one and only official family portrait taken before his parents split, canisters of Godiva gourmet hot chocolate, the Kindle Fire Tessa gave him last Christmas, deodorant, toothbrush, the sketchbook he hasn’t doodled in for at least two years…

It all feels like too much stuff, then not enough. Some of the things he takes, like his autographed Game of Thrones DVD box set, aren’t things he needs, just things he figures he should take in case he never comes back, or Tessa gets pissed and burns all his shit.

He really does have an awful feeling that he won’t ever be back here.

He takes his Starship Enterprise bottle opener out of the kitchen junk drawer, and his old Hamburglar magnet from the fridge. His clothes get stuffed in a garbage bag.

The apartment still looks mostly the same, but Dean can see the holes where he used to be. For better or worse, this is his home, and now he’s supposed to go get in his car and drive away and leave his home.

And that’s just what he does.

  
  


 


	7. Chapter 7

What Dean wants to do is drive to Lawrence, get drunk with his brother, then see if his mother is in town so he can cry all over her without feeling judged. But all that means talking about what’s going on with Tessa, and Dean’s not really in the mood for that. Plus Dean’s mother never seems to be home when he comes looking. She’d be there if she knew Dean’s life was falling apart a little, but… then he’d have to tell her his life is falling apart a little.

He doesn’t know where to go. Lawrence feels more like home, but Dean’s still got a job, that’s not a good commute. Jo lives with her mom, Ash’s apartment always smells like old beer cans and pot smoke, Mick lives with god damn Ketch, Tessa is at Charlie’s, and Victor just flat out refuses to have guests over.

This is why they always hang out at the fucking bar, or at Tessa and Dean’s place.

Plus, Dean has no idea how to be around them right now, not with what’s going on. They’re Tessa’s friends, and more than that, he still hasn’t told most of them that he’s bi.

Back when Pamela first ditched Dean for Jesse, it took all of three weeks of seeing the happy couple around town for Dean to feel like he couldn’t be in Lawrence anymore. Looking back, Dean knows they never would have lasted, but at the time…

So, he’d packed up his shit, quit his job at the construction company, and left.

He could do that again, he supposes. He could move back to Lawrence, or even go somewhere new. Kansas City. No Ketch, no Tessa, no Castiel Novak. Way closer to Sam than Wichita. Dean should move to Kansas City.

Dean sighs, face mashed into his steering wheel. He’s parked under a street light outside Castiel’s sister’s house for some reason, he barely remembers driving here. The lights are off, it’s two in the morning after all. One of their neighbors is on their porch, though, giving Dean’s car the stink eye. The guy probably thinks he’s here to rob the place or some shit. He should give Dean some credit, if he was going to come rob houses, he’d show up in a quieter car. He waves, because why not, not sure if the man sees him until the man suddenly goes rigid and rushes back into the house.

Yeah, run, jackass.

There’s no reason for Dean to be here. What’s he going to do, ask to bunk with Castiel, his sister, and niece? They barely know each other. Plus Tessa would probably kill Dean. This is stupid. Dean’s staring at this stranger’s house in the middle of the night, and—

Someone’s looking back at him.

Oh God, Dean didn’t notice. All the lights are off, he couldn’t tell. But there’s a face in one of the windows. The person in the window tilts their head slightly, _fuck_ it’s Castiel.

There’s no graceful way out of this.

Dean starts up his car and drives away as fast as he can.

  


*

  


Dean chooses a motel far away from Castiel’s neighborhood, far away from his own neighborhood, the Palm Motel. It’s not the nicest motel, but there are no bed bug related reviews on Yelp, which means it’s good enough for Dean. He tosses his bag of clothes on the floor, sets the duffel containing his other shit on the table, and goes right to sleep.

  


*

  


Dean spends his Sunday in bed, drinking beer, watching basic cable on the motel’s shitty television, and eating an entire stuffed crust pizza over the course of an afternoon. He receives seven texts from Charlie, two calls and one text from Jo, a text from Mick, and a link to a fucking kitten video from Ash. He doesn’t answer any of them. He doesn’t know what to say.

  


*

  


On Monday, instead of going to work like he planned, Dean picks up his phone, calls his manager’s extension, and quits his job.

By noon, he’s had a dozen phone calls from Tessa, he doesn’t answer any of them.

  


*

  


There’s a small chance Dean’s a bit depressed.

  


*

  


The next week or so passes by slowly, and Dean spends the entire time in his motel room eating shitty delivery food, sitting around in his underwear, watching more television. At some point he went from taking a few days to deal with an emotional blow, to wallowing in self pity. He knows that. He just… needs to get this out of his system. Then he’ll go out, find a new job, actually get back to his friends, _shave,_ all that shit. He really will get around to it.

  


*

  


On day thirteen, Sam calls. Dean answers it of course, he’s not going to ignore a call from his brother.

“Yeah?” Dean grunts, almost confused by the sound of his own voice.

“Where the _hell_ are you?!” Sam shouts.

Dean winces. “Uh… why?”

“Because it’s the fucking weekend, and I came to your apartment because I thought I’d surprise you and take you and maybe Tessa to lunch?”

Oh, yikes.

“Yeah, I’m uh… I’m not there.”

“Yeah I _see that,_ Dean. Tessa says you _quit your job,_ and no one’s heard from you in days. She thought you were with me.”

“Huh.”

“Huh? That’s it?”

“She broke up with me, kind of. I needed some time off.”

“You could have told _me,_ Dean.”

“I was gonna.”

“You were gonna. Dean you’re in your fucking thirties, this running away from home during a breakup shit isn’t cute anymore.”

Dean hears Tessa’s voice in the background. “It’s not a breakup, I’m just taking some time.”

“What the fuck, you called me right in front of her?”

“Oh fuck you, you don’t get to play the injured party here. Where are you?”

God damn, Dean hasn’t felt this scolded in decades. “Palm Motel… s’ here in Wichita,” Dean mumbles, feeling embarrassed. “Room sixteen. Don’t tell her where I am, Sammy.”

“Dean, I’m on _your_ side. You’re my brother. I’ll be there soon, don’t go anywhere.”

Dean hears Tessa say “Where is he?” before the line cuts off. God, he hopes Sam doesn’t rat him out. Tessa may be the one that called for this break, but Dean needs a break too.

He considers cleaning up, maybe taking a shower, but he doesn’t. It’s Sam, Sam’s seen him in a worse state than this, and vice versa. He does brush his teeth and put on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, though. Sam should be honored.

Not even twenty minutes go by before there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Dean yells, too lazy to get up from where he’s sitting on the bed.

The door swings open, and… no.

Nope, Dean’s fucking hallucinating. Surely Castiel Novak didn’t just walk into his fucking motel room.

He closes the door behind him, looking around the room with raised and probably judgmental eyebrows.

Dean’s almost speechless. “Fucking _how_?!”

“This isn’t a very nice motel,” Castiel says evenly, “all I had to do was give fifty dollars to the manager.”

“How did you fucking know I was _here_?”

“I was headed to a… lunch thing in this area… I saw your car in the parking lot. It’s very recognizable.”

“And you thought you’d… come say hi? You don’t think that’s weird?”

Castiel straightens up slightly, looking defensive. “I thought you parking your car outside of my sister’s home for ten minutes in the middle of the night was weird.”

God, Dean fucking forgot about that. “Well… well I guess we’re even then!” he stammers, embarrassed.

“Yes, I guess we are.” Castiel’s scowling like a child, which makes Dean feel better about how petty he’s being himself. “I…” Castiel looks away. “I saw Tessa a few days ago. She asked me if I had seen you.”

“Ugh,” Dean groans, letting his head fall against the wall. _She_ wanted to take a break, why the hell is she trying to keep tabs on him?

“What happened?”

“Well, I ditched my friends to drive your stupid drunk ass home, and one of my _friends_ ratted me out to Tess, and she decided we should take a break so she could figure things out and fucking _see other people,_ and then I quit my job because I wasn’t going to work for her fucking father every day while I waited to see if she’d take me back, and now I’m slowly draining my savings on this motel room and take out food. How is _your_ week going?”

Castiel sighs. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“It’s not your fault,” Dean grumbles.

“It sounds like you think it is.”

“No, you’re just… part of a situation of my own making,” Dean says. “I mean I want to blame you, Cas. I really, really, really, _really—”_

“I get it.”

“But I don’t blame you.”

“Well… that’s good. Do you… are you okay?”

Dean looks around at his messy living space, realizing belatedly that his sweatpants are not only on backwards, they’re inside out. “I don’t handle relationship troubles that well.”

Castiel smiles, and Dean feels something unknot in his chest. “I apologize for showing up like this. I suppose the temptation to see how you were doing got the better of me.”

“Well now you’ve seen me sitting on a bed covered in pizza boxes and beer cans, wearing my clothes inside out… I have to kill you.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“In the fast paced world of television?”

“No, my brother.” Castiel bites his lip, looking dissatisfied somehow. “I should, um… I should get to my lunch engagement.”

“This a, uh… date?”

“Hannah thought I should… she thought I might hit it off with a friend of hers.”

Dean nods. “Cool, cool. Tessa’s probably off dating right now too,” he says, laughing bitterly.

“Dean, if—”

“It’s fine, I’m just being a bitch. You go on your date, man. I’ll be okay. My brother’s on his way, actually, probably to tear me a new one for not telling him sooner.”

Castiel looks at the door, then back at Dean. Like he wants to stay. Dean wants him to stay. But Sam will be here. Plus… plus it’s probably not a good idea.

Then again, Tessa’s off seeing other people. Dean can make friends with whoever the fuck he wants. He grabs a pen off the nightstand, scribbling his number onto a receipt for Chinese food.

“Maybe we could hang out sometime soon, when I’m less…” Dean trails off, holding the paper out.

Castiel takes the paper. “Disheveled?”

“Yeah.”

Castiel smiles again. “I rather like the beard.”

“Good luck on your date, man,” Dean says.

“Good luck with your brother, I suppose.”

When Castiel opens the door, Sam is there, hand raised and about to knock. He looks at Castiel, startled, then beyond him to Dean.

“Pardon me,” Castiel says, “I’m late for a lunch.”

“Uh, sure…” Sam says, staring as Castiel walks away, jaw hanging open slightly. After a long moment he comes into Dean’s room, looking out one last time before closing the door behind him. “Dude, that was Castiel Novak.”

“I know who the fuck it was,” Dean says, glaring.

Sam looks around. “Well, judging by how gross this room looks, I take it you weren’t scoring.”

“I hate you.”

“Get your shoes on, we’re going to lunch.”

  


*

  


Dean changes into something more presentable so he and Sam can go to lunch at the sandwich place Sam always wants to go to when they’re in Wichita. It’s a good restaurant, but he still thinks Sam gets disproportionately excited about it. Probably because the asshole has no carbs in his house.

Lunch is good, it actually feels pretty nice to get out of the house… motel room… whatever, and the food is far less greasy than what Dean’s been eating the past several days. Sam is kind enough to not publicly grill Dean for details, instead most of lunch is spent talking about Sam’s job and his hilariously young girlfriend.

“She wants me to come with her to a _rave_ next weekend,” Sam says, grimacing at Dean.

“A rave.”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna dye your hair pink and cover yourself in glitter, or whatever the fuck happens at raves?”

“She swears I can just come in my normal clothes. I think I’m going to have to wear glowsticks though.”

God, this relationship is hilarious. Sam’s thirty-two, but he acts like he’s in his late forties most of the time. What in the hell is he going to do at a rave full of people dancing, taking party drugs, and fucking in dark corners?

“So, no glitter?”

“Tracy said there’s very little chance that I will make it out of there without getting glitter on me.”

“Amazing, wish I could be there to see it.”

“I mean if you want to, I’m sure—”

“Not a chance in fucking hell.”

  


  


*

  


“Alright. Why was Castiel Novak in your room?” They’ve been back in Sam’s car for five seconds.

“He wanted to know if I was okay, I guess…” Dean says, shrugging.

“Wait, really? That’s it?”

“Yeah?”

“So he wasn’t there to—”

“He was on his way to a _date,_ Sam.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“What, are you disappointed?!”

“No, I just thought I was right, and I wasn’t.”

“Well it takes a big man to admit it, and you’re a big, big man.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As Sam drives them back to the Palm Motel, he tries to convince Dean to come stay with him for a while.

“Come on, man, you’re living in a _motel,_ and you have no job. Give me one good reason why you can’t crash with me in Lawrence.”

“I’ll give you four. I don’t want to hear you and your girlfriend having sex. I don’t want you to scream at me every time I walk through the house with shoes on. I don’t want to run into any of my exes while I’m slowly being dumped by my girlfriend. I don’t want to get a side eye from you if I feel like having pizza for breakfast.”

Sam’s quiet for well over a minute. “I don’t care if you wear your shoes inside,” Sam says in a tiny voice.

“Forget it, Sam.”

“Well… if you change your mind, the offer is open.”

Dean sighs. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“And… if you do come stay with me, it doesn’t mean you’re giving up or losing a battle or anything, okay? You’re just saving money. That’s it.”

Dean sees right through this. Smart, making this a logic thing to circumvent Dean’s pride. “Yeah, alright. I’ll… soon, okay? This week.”

“So I should get all the noisy sex with Tracy out of my system in the next couple days, right?”

“Ugh, _Sam_!”

 


	8. Chapter 8

By the time the evening rolls around, Sam has gone back to Lawrence, and Dean is back to watching cable. Now that he’s actually left the hotel for a couple hours, his room seems a lot more depressing than it did earlier. The palm tree wallpaper is faded and peeling, there’s a weird brown stain on the ceiling that looks too… viscous to be water damage, and the neighboring room has the volume on the television up high so Dean can hear the latest garbage FOX News anchors are spewing in perfect detail.

It’s ridiculous, staying here. He wants to be near Tessa, near his friends, but he doesn’t want to _see_ any of them, so what is he doing? He can sit around in Sam’s living room just as well as he can here, and it won’t cost him sixty dollars a night. Plus, Benny and Garth are in Lawrence, they’d probably love to get him drunk.

The thought of running into Lisa or Pamela while he’s all bearded and sad doesn’t sound appealing at all, though.

Right now, nothing sounds appealing. Going back to Lawrence, staying in this motel, even going back to the apartment with Tessa. He’s got this uncomfortable tension, like his life is the wrong size for him or something.

For some reason, he calls Charlie.

“ _Dean,_ I thought you frakking died!” is the first thing Charlie says when she answers.

“No you didn’t.”

“Okay, no I didn’t. But only because I was tracking your bank card use.”

The fuck? “You’re joking, right?”

“How _is_ the Palm Motel?”

“Charlie, what the _hell_?”

“If you want to drop off the grid, pay in cash.”

“I didn’t know my friend would be _tracking_ me.”

“I wanted to know where you went!”

“That’s a massive invasion of my privacy, Charlie.”

“Do I get any points for not telling anyone where you were?”

It really is a horrible invasion of Dean’s privacy, but at the same time it helps to know Charlie cares that much. “Half a point.”

“I’ll take it. So, um… what’s up?”

“I’m uh… I’m thinking of going to stay with Sammy, guess I wanted to know what you thought.”

“Hard to say. On the one hand, I can see not wanting to be around here, but on the other hand… you can’t keep running away every time a girl dumps you.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but…” Dean sighs. “I want to be somewhere that feels like home. Wichita doesn’t. Especially right _now_.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I still miss Topeka sometimes. I mean, the move to Lawrence, my parents dying, that was over a decade ago. I don’t live with my aunt anymore, but I’m still in Wichita.”

“You’ve put down roots.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I don’t know, I guess it doesn’t feel like it. I feel like Tessa is my biggest root, and that’s been… dissolving.”

“Honestly, I’m behind you either way. As long as you don’t like… cut me out or anything. I know Tessa’s like my BFF or whatever, but dude you mean a lot to me.”

Dean sniffles. Ah, fuck his eyes are watering.

“Dean? Are you crying?”

“Shut the hell up, Charlie.”

“Awww! I love you too, Dean!!”

  
  


*

  
  


Dean decides to give it another week in Wichita. He’s not really sure what he’s waiting for, but a week it is. According to his conversation with Charlie, Tessa and Ketch _have_ been “spending time together”, but Charlie didn’t know much beyond that.

Dean knew that was coming, but it still stings.

On Sunday, Dean gets a call from an unknown number, and against his better judgment, he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Dean?”

Dean nearly sighs with relief at the sound of Castiel’s voice on the other end. He was afraid it was Tessa calling to end things for good or some shit.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, hoping he sounds easy going. “How was your date?”

“Hannah has proven that her terrible taste in men extends to fixing me up on dates,” Castiel grumbles.

“That bad?”

“He wasn’t interested in anything I had to say, he asked if I could introduce him to Kelvin, and at the end of the date he assumed I’d be paying because I’m an actor, and asked me to sign something for his sister.”

Dean winces. “Damn.”

“Ten minutes ago he texted me asking when I wanted to go out again.”

“Sooo he’s interested!”

“Well, I’m not. I’m calling to see if you’d like to… ah… hang out.”

Dean snorts. “What, like Netflix and chill?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, sounding dubious, “but actually Netflix and chill. That is not code for sex. I can supply the Netflix.”

“I guess I can supply the chill.”

Castiel makes this weird happy little squeaking noise that Dean is instantly infatuated with. “I’m also bringing food, do you have any allergies?”

“Salad.”

“You have a salad allergy.”

“Sure.”

Dean can almost hear the eye roll. “I’ll see you in an hour, Dean.”

  
  


*

  
  


At first, Dean just sits on the bed, trying to be calm. He has a date. No, not a date. Two friends hanging out. Maybe it _should_ be a date. Tessa’s dating god damn Ketch. No. No, Dean’s not going to do shit out of revenge, Castiel is a nice guy and no one deserves that.

Okay, so it’s a casual thing, nothing to fret about. Castiel was just here yesterday, it’s not a big deal.

Five minutes later, Dean’s running around the motel room, cleaning up all the beer cans and food packaging, and stuffing his dirty clothes back into his trash bag. He dives into the shower, scrubbing hard and fast, washing his hair with an unnecessary amount of shampoo. He loses nearly ten minutes trying and failing to find his clippers to get rid of his beard, so the beard has to stay. But he’s showered, his teeth are brushed, the motel room is clean, he’s wearing his last clean t-shirt and underwear, and he has a pine tree air freshener stuffed in the bag with his dirty clothes. He’s presentable.

To see his new friend.

Exactly one hour after the phone call, Castiel knocks at the door. Dean’s utterly baffled. Is that a coincidence, or is Castiel some sort of wizard with timing?

He opens the door, heart doing a dumb flip at the sight of Castiel standing there holding a plastic grocery bag and a laptop. He’s wearing jeans and a Comic-Con t-shirt, hair messy around the pair of aviator sunglasses on top of his head.

Did he somehow get _hotter_ since yesterday?!

He has a bag from a deli that Dean loves, but never goes to because their food is way overpriced. Fuck, he can’t wait.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Comic-Con,” Dean says dumbly.

Castiel pouts. “I didn’t get to go this year, since I’m off my show. It’s a fun time. Very chaotic, like being in a colorful fever dream for a weekend.” Dean steps back to make room, and Castiel comes inside. “I see you cleaned up for me,” he says with a coy smirk.

“Shaddup,” Dean grumbles, embarrassed.

“I’m honored.”

Within five minutes they’re sitting on the motel room’s bed, Castiel’s laptop open. The screen is way bigger than the laptop Tessa lets Dean borrow sometimes, Dean’s jealous. They spend a few minutes deciding what to watch; Castiel threatens to leave when Dean suggests Halo Project. Somehow they land on Grey’s Anatomy.

Castiel bought sandwiches and side salads from the deli, and he hands one of each to Dean. “I hope this won’t aggravate your allergy,” he says, grinning.

“Dick.”

“Greens are good for you.”

“Are they still good for me when I add this much dressing?” Dean asks, drizzling a squeeze packet of ranch all over the exposed parts of his salad.

“You don’t need to use _all_ of the dressing, you know.”

“I know.”

  
  


*

  
  


Five minutes into the second episode of Grey’s Anatomy, Dean sighs.

“This is okay, but I think Dr. Sexy is a way better show. Too bad it’s not on Netflix.”

Castiel turns toward him, looking confused. “Way better? They are virtually the same show, minus the title character making the unrealistic choice of wearing cowboy boots inside a _hospital_.”

“That’s what makes him _sexy_!”

“Cowboy boots aren’t sexy,” Castiel says.

Dean’s never been more offended. “You should see me in cowboy boots.” He glances over at Castiel, who’s suddenly staring intently at his Cuban sandwich. “I make em’ work, is all I’m saying.”

“I-I will have to take your word for it.”

“Mhmm. So, you’re a TV star type, you ever meet him?”

“Meet who?”

“Dr. Sexy.”

“We don’t all know each other, you realize. There are hundreds of television shows in this country alone. But… yes, I did meet him once. We presented an award together at the Teen Choice Awards several years ago.”

Dean snorts. The fucking Teen Choice Awards? Really? “What award was it?”

Castiel sighs. “Choice TV Actress. My co-star won. Anna Milton.”

“Oh yeah, she’s hot,” Dean says, nodding emphatically. “So, how was Dr. Sexy?”

“His name is not actually Dr. Sexy, Dean.”

Dean taps his temple. “It is up here, man.”

“He was nice, but very high on cocaine,” Castiel says casually.

Dean nearly chokes on his salad. “The fuck? High on coke?”

“From what I understand he was more of a recreational user than a full blown addict. In my opinion, though, an award show targeting teenagers is not an appropriate venue to show up high. But like I said, he was very nice. He asked what I use in my hair, and told me I had a great ass.”

“ _Dr. Sexy hit on you?!”_ Dean practically squeals.

“He wasn’t propositioning me, I don’t think…”

“Dude. I hate you.”

“Quiet,” Castiel says, shaking his head slowly and pointing at the laptop, “Dr. Bailey is talking.”

  
  


*

  
  


They plow through five more episodes before they decide it’s time to stop for the time being. They both sit at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall, chatting. It’s nice. There are moments when Castiel feels like a friend Dean’s known for years, and moments where Dean’s startled into remembering Castiel is a celebrity that he met only recently. Like when Castiel talks about getting wasted with his castmates and them all having to sit through a stern lecture from the network after pictures hit the tabloids.

Castiel’s barely stopped talking before Dean’s looking for pictures of it on his phone. Just like the night he gave Castiel a ride home, Castiel is a smiley and adorable looking drunk in the photos.

“So,” Dean says, after he sets a shot of a slightly younger and very drunk Castiel as his contact photo, “I’m thinking of ditching the motel and staying with my brother.”

“Oh?” Castiel says. Dean could swear he looks disappointed. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“Yeah, I mean… right now all I’m doing is hiding from my friends and wasting money, I could do that just as easily in Lawrence, you know?”

Castiel nods. “I have to assume your brother would feed you better than the surrounding delivery restaurants would.”

“Ugh, no Sam’s the fucking worst, he shops at natural grocery stores and eats salads every day. It’s horrible.”

Castiel nudges Dean’s shoulder with his. “I saw all the pizza boxes and Chinese takeout cartons, I think a few more salads might be in order.”

“Yeah… got a couple friends there that I haven’t seen in awhile too… and I don’t have to worry about bumping into Tessa and Ketch.”

“Ketch?”

“He’s the ‘other people’ in ‘let’s see other people’,” Dean grouses.

“Ah, I see.”

“He’s a friend, only not really because he’s a dick and I hate him.”

“You told me you hate me too, you know.”

“Yeah well this is different hate. This is the kind of hate where I would definitely enjoy kicking him in the balls so hard they retreat inside his body and never come back out,” Dean says, snickering when he sees Castiel squeeze his legs together in sympathy.

“When are you going?”

“Not sure… today, tomorrow… soon. My life’s kind of on pause right now, but… I just need to be somewhere that feels safe, I guess. Uh, emotionally safe, if that makes sense.”

“Of course it does. Why do you think I’m back in Wichita?”

“Oh right, right. Midlife crisis and all.”

“I never said it was a midlife crisis.”

“I read between the lines, plus I’m pretty sure your sister said it was.”

Castiel folds his arms petulantly. “Please do be on your way then.”

“You’re kind of like… easy to hang out with, you know?”

“Not really, but thank you.”

“What I’m saying is… if you’re ever willing… I mean it’d be cool to still hang out. Even when I’m in Lawrence. It’s not _that_ far. I’ve driven farther just for pizza.”

“Where did you drive for pizza?”

“Chicago.”

“You drove to Chicago from Kansas. For pizza.”

“I did, with my friend Charlie. It was fucking worth it.”

“They have good pizza here, you know.”

“ _The point is,_ ” Dean says, “you’re cool to hang with, it’d be cool if we could do it again sometime, even if I’m possibly temporarily relocating a couple hours to the north.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’ve got nothing but time,” Castiel says, smiling.

  
  


*

  
  


Castiel leaves early in the evening, something about meeting his brother’s new girlfriend at dinner, which leaves Dean still feeling social, but with no one to talk to.

He stares at the contact list on his phone. Sam, Tessa, his mom, Charlie, Benny, Garth, Jo, his father, his always busy half-brother Adam, Victor— Actually, Victor seems like a good choice.

“He lives!” Victor shouts when he answers his phone.

“Hey, man,” Dean says, feeling embarrassed. “You busy? Wanna go get a beer?”

“On a Sunday, you godless heathen?”

“Mulligan’s is selling.”

“Mulligan’s? Not Harvelle’s? Still on the lamb, then?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Meet you there in thirty.”

  
  


*

  
  


Dean’s favorite thing about Victor has always been how ridiculously calm he is. Dean’s never seen him yell, barely seen him get mad. Dean would think two divorces and twelve years as a homicide detective would leave a man full of piss and vinegar, but Victor’s always cool as a cucumber. He’s gotta be in anger management or something, no one’s that calm.

He looks easy going as ever when Dean comes into the bar, building a house of cards. A passing drunk bumps the table, knocking the cards over in an instant. Victor just smiles to himself and sweeps the cards back into a pile.

“You want me to kick that guy’s ass?” Dean says, sitting in the opposite chair.

“Nah, this is just a time killer. Got one at home that’s four feet tall and falls over every time my neighbor slams her door a little too hard.”

“That sounds like something an insane person would do.”

“Repetitive tasks clear my mind.”

“Is this why you never let anyone over? House is full of buildings made of cards?”

“Maybe.”

“Mick thinks you have a shelf of serial killer heads or some shit in there.”

Victor lets out a guffaw. “It’s a _rack_ of heads, tell him to get it right.”

Dean grins. “Mhmm, I’ll do that.” There’s a pitcher of beer and two glasses waiting, so Dean helps himself.

“You know, that Italian restaurant down the road from the station is hiring busboys,” Victor says offhandedly.

“You think I got what it takes?”

Victor shrugs. “Never seen you drop any beer bottles, anyway.”

“Thanks, man, but… I’m getting out of here for a while.”

“Here? Like, Wichita?”

“Yeah, gonna stay with Sam while Tessa’s…”

“Dating Smarmy McSociopath?”

That’s definitely the harshest thing Dean’s ever heard Victor say about Ketch. It’s appreciated. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Got tired of the Palm Motel?”

“What the fuck, you knew where I was too?”

“I’m a _cop._ ”

“You and fuckin’ Charlie, man…”

Victor snorts. “Of course Charlie found you.”

“I take it you kept that info to yourself, since I didn’t have any visitors coming to make me eat vegetables and get some fresh air.”

“If you need some down time, ain’t my place to interrupt it.”

“God, what else do you know about me, _officer_?”

Victor grins wide. Dean would kill to be that fucking zen. Maybe that’s why he never will be. “Know you spent your share of nights in the drunk tank. Know you got arrested for breaking into a girl’s house before the girl came in to bail you out and drop the charges.”

Ah, Rhonda Hurley. Dean forgot about her, that was one hell of a month. “She told me she wanted me to be more spontaneous. I had this plan to be all… posed in her bed when she got home.”

“Report says you had roses, handcuffs, sex toys, and a pair of women’s underwear in your backpack.”

“Oh _God,_ I am so sorry I asked.”

“We’ve all got our youthful indiscretions, no big. So. Back to Lawrence, huh?”

“For now.”

“You gonna be a seamstress with your brother?”

“He’s a _tailor,_ and no. I fucking hate sewing.”

“You oughta try knitting, great peaceful activity.”

“Who _are_ you?”

“I’m really sorry about you and Tessa, man. I know things have been going downhill for a while. You think you’ll work things out?”

“Seems like it’s mostly up to her. She’s the one that wanted this.”

“Yeah. Well, what do you want?”

Fuck, Dean wishes he knew how to answer that.

  
  


*

  
  


After a couple of beers and a promise to stay in touch, Dean grabs a cab back to the motel. He feels pretty good about his choice to ditch Wichita for the time being, even though he now feels like a dope for assuming his friends would bail on him in Tessa’s favor. He can still have a place here, even if he and Tessa don’t work out. If he wants that place, anyway. Wichita was never _really_ supposed to be permanent, Dean kind of figured he’d be back to Lawrence inside six months, whenever he got too lonely or ran out of money and had to move back in with his mom or Sam or whatever. But he stayed, and stayed, and stayed, and it never truly stopped feeling temporary.

  
  


*

  
  


He sleeps for five hours, then packs all his shit up and drives to Lawrence. He arrives at seven a.m. on Monday, and the second he pulls up next to Sam’s house his brother is at the front door, smiling.

Not home, but damn close.

  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 4:55pm: How are things at your brother’s?

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:01pm: hey!

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:01pm: pretty good actually

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:02pm: he feeds me and his couch is comfy as hell

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:05pm: I’m happy to hear that, Dean.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:06pm: gotta temp job starting on monday

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:06pm: construction shit

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:08pm: I’m glad that you’re already getting back in the work force.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:08pm: i don’t know about all that. job’s for about three weeks

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:10pm: What if Tessa wants you to come back before then?

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:15pm: fuck

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:15pm: gonna be honest i didn’t think of that

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:17pm: well if that happens i’m not going. if we get back together i’m not gonna take the job she wants like before

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:18pm: Compromise is important in any relationship, but so is staying true to who you are.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:19pm: see you get it

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:20pm: honestly though I don’t know if i’ll be hearing from her now that she knows i’m not dead or anything

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:21pm: how long does “see other people for a while” typically last?

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:22pm: I wouldn’t know. All my experiences with “let’s see other people” were “let’s break up and see other people”. Your situation is uncharted territory for me, I’m afraid.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:25pm: and here i thought you’d be the voice of experience, you’re what, two years older?

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:28pm: Apologies. I was actually hoping to get advice from YOU.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:29pm: you’re kidding. about what?

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:30pm: I have a date tonight.

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:31pm: Another blind date.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:32pm: dude i thought you weren’t going to let your sister fix you up again

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:32pm: This was Gabriel’s fix up.

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:33pm: Which, now that I’ve said that, seems like an even worse idea.

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:34pm: Well, too late now. I’m supposed to meet him in an hour.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:35pm: what do you need advice on? not exactly a pro at dating here. esp men

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:36pm: Is there anything weird about me?

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:36pm: the fuck?

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:36pm: no????

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:37pm: What I mean is, we’ve spent a few hours together socially. I was wondering if there were things you noticed about me that are weird or off-putting.

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:38pm: My siblings were no help.

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:43pm: Your silence is making me uncomfortable.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:46pm: sorry, man. at a baseball game with my buds garth and benny

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:46pm: phone got kicked under the seats

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:47pm: god there’s something sticky on it

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:48pm: anyway cas no man there’s nothing wrong with you

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:49pm: you’re cute, you’re kinda funny, kind of a jackass, smart

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:49pm: just be you, dude

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:51pm: You’re very sweet, Dean. Thank you.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:55pm: and remember: no glove, no love

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 5:56pm: Please.

  
  


*

  
  


To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:12pm: how’d it go?

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:12pm: your date

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:23pm: I got a good night kiss, I suppose that makes it a success.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:35pm: goodnight kiss huh that’s pretty cool

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:36pm: good job buddy

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:45pm: I guess.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:47pm: that’s the spirit!!!!

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:47pm: you don’t seem excited

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:48pm: then again we’re texting so who knows

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:56pm: Honestly, I wasn’t really feeling “it” with Inias, you know?

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:57pm: no spark?

From Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:58pm: Not a flicker.

To Cas - 8/04/17 - 11:59pm: that sucks

To Cas - 8/05/17 - 12:00am: but honestly cas sparks aren’t everything

From Cas - 8/05/17 - 12:02am: I know. But if there’s no spark in the beginning, what’s there to build on?

To Cas - 8/05/17 - 12:03am: beats the shit out of me

 


	10. Chapter 10

Dean’s at the grocery store, staring in dismay at the list Sam gave him. It’s not the array of fruits, vegetables, and grains that bothers Dean, it’s the fact that Sam wrote “TWO SNACKS OF YOUR CHOICE!” at the bottom like Dean’s a fucking six year old that needs to be offered snacks in order to eat healthy.

But fine. Two snacks of Dean’s choice.

He puts a one gallon tub of cookie dough ice cream in the cart, and a forty-two ounce bag of M&M’s. Two snacks.

He hears someone sigh behind him.

“This is how I raised you?”

Dean whirls around, startled to see his mom standing there. Jesus, when’s the last time he actually saw her? Six months ago? No, more than that, it was Christmas. Her hair’s shorter now, and she’s got a band-aid on her forehead. She looks happy.

“Come on,” Dean says, gesturing to the many Sam-approved goods in the cart, “I got lots of other shit in here too. Look! Carrots!”

“Mhmm.”

Dean almost puts the M&M’s back before he remembers he’s thirty-six years old and can do whatever the hell he wants. “You’re just jealous.”

Mary grabs a slightly smaller bag of peanut M&M’s and puts it in her cart. “Nah.” She moves closer, pulling Dean into a hug, and for a moment Dean almost wants to cry at the sort of instinctual relief he feels from getting a hug from his mom. “How are you, baby? I didn’t know you were back!”

“Sammy didn’t tell you?”

Mary shakes her head. “My phone’s stuck in about three feet of cement next to a bridge in Nebraska, I haven’t been able to check my messages.”

Dean doesn’t even want to know how the hell that happened. “Well, I’m uh… staying with Sammy for a little while, Tessa and I are kind of on a break.”

Mary frowns, probably trying to remember who the hell Tessa is. Dean’s pretty sure they’ve only met once in all this time.

Understanding dawns on her face, then sadness. “I’m sorry, Dean, that’s terrible news.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s… you know. Things happen.”

Mary smiles with sympathy. “I do. Come on, finish up your shopping and we’ll go have lunch.”

  
  


*

  
  


By the time their burgers arrive at their booth, Dean’s spilled most of the important details to Mary. Things with Tessa growing distant, jealousy over Ketch, the kiss, jealousy over Castiel, and then “let’s see other people for a while”. Mary’s a good listener when she’s actually around, and it feels good for Dean to get this off his chest to a loving parent.

“The thing is, sweetheart… staying with someone out of obligation, that’s not going to lead to happiness.”

“For me or for her?”

“For either of you. You hang on for the wrong reasons, and things just get worse and worse.”

Dean sighs. “Like you and Dad?”

Mary smiles sadly. “Yeah. Your dad and I, we made a lot of mistakes. Married young, married impulsively, married when we didn’t really know each other the way we should have. And we came from a generation where divorce was really frowned upon, especially with children in the picture.”

Dean nods. It’s a little depressing to think about his own parents falling out of love, but Mary and John have both long moved past it. “How do you know whether you should fight for the relationship, or just let go?”

“I realized that staying married because I was supposed to wasn’t a good enough reason. All it was doing was stopping your father from finding a love that was a better fit, stopping me from being who I was, and stopping you boys from growing up in a house that wasn’t filled with yelling and anger.”

Dean has to admit, that was the good thing about the divorce. He and Sam spent the rest of their childhood going between two homes, but the yelling stopped. Seeing his mother crying, that stopped too.

“Dean, don’t stay in the relationship because breaking up seems too complicated, or because you’re afraid to be alone. Stay because you’re in love and want to build a life with the person. Stay because life without her would be an ugly thing. Stay because there’s no one you trust more. And if you don’t stay, keep trying until you find a love that’s right for you. Like your father.”

“Kate doesn’t hold a candle to you if you ask me,” Dean says.

Mary chuckles. “Mhm, dare you to say that to her face. You get it though, right? He’s happy now, because he didn’t give up when he and I didn’t work out. He’s got a wife he loves and _three_ boys he’s proud of.”

Dean gets it. Don’t give up on love. Kind of weird to hear from his mother, who never seems to be in a relationship.

“What about you, Mom?”

“What about me?”

“Dad found his great love, what about you?”

Mary smiles, eyes shining. “The open road is my great love.”

  
  


*

  
  


Dean goes to bed that night wondering if Tessa can be his great love if he doesn’t even miss her.

  
  


 


	11. Chapter 11

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:41pm: I have news.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:42pm: you’re pregnant

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:43pm: That’s not even a little close.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:43pm: ok well tell me jeez

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:44pm: The show wants me back.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:45pm: Halo Project?

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:45pm: Yes. Evidently there’s been a great deal of fan backlash since my death.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:46pm: really? has the show even started airing the next season yet???

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:46pm: No.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:48pm: wow i need to spend more time on the internet

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:49pm: dude there’s a petition and a website to bring you back

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:51pm: That’s what I heard from my manager. I’m unbelievably touched.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:52pm: did you cry

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:53pm: Honestly, yes.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:54pm: that’s actually really sweat

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:54pm: *sweet

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:55pm: are you gonna go back?

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 3:59pm: I don’t know. I’m touched as I said, but I don’t know if I want to go back to all of that. I have some time to decide.

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 4:00pm: They said three weeks, in order allow for time to make script changes and have me back by midseason.

To Cas - 8/07/17 - 4:02pm: woah they really want you back

From Cas - 8/07/17 - 4:03pm: Now all I have to do is decide if I want it.

  
  


*

  
  


From Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:13pm: [IMAGE ATTACHED]

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:35pm: what the hell happened to you?

From Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:37pm: I’m spending the day with my niece.

From Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:38pm: She wanted to experiment with her mother’s makeup.

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:44pm: you look striking

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:45pm: will the tabloids pay lots of money for this?

From Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:46pm: That seems unlikely.

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:47pm: jesus christ one of the guys working with me saw your pic

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:48pm: he’s a fan or something

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:48pm: he said that was a terrible photoshop job

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 1:50pm: am i allowed to tell people i know you

From Cas - 8/08/17 - 2:09pm: Why in the world would you not be allowed to?

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 2:13pm: just making sure

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 2:29pm: HE THINKS I’M MAKING IT UP I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 2:30pm: I’VE HAD YOUR TONGUE IN MY MOUTH AND HE THINKS I’M LYING

From Cas - 8/08/17 - 2:43pm: That’s pretty funny.

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 3:18pm: great now cain told andy and cesar that i’m pretending to know a celebrity

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 3:19pm: grown ass men acting like kids in high school

From Cas - 8/08/17 - 3:33pm: [VIDEO ATTACHED] Show them this?

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 3:35pm: holy shit you’re the best

To Cas - 8/08/17 - 3:47pm: jesus fucking christ now cain wants your autograph

  
  


*

  
  


To Cas - 8/11/17 - 2:16pm: hey come hang out tomorrow

From Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:19pm: Really?

To Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:20pm: yeah, you can meet sam

To Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:21pm: and you can help me clean the garage ;)

From Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:24pm: I have people to do that sort of thing for me.

To Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:25pm: really???

From Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:26pm: No.

To Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:33pm: har fucking har, funny man

To Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:33pm: anyway what do you say? we will feed and entertain you

From Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:35pm: How will you entertain me? Some sort of strange brother strip show?

From Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:36pm: I already regret sending that.

To Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:37pm: that’s the worst thing anyone has ever fucking texted me, thanks

From Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:37pm: Apologies. Am I still invited?

To Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:40pm: yeah but as punishment you don’t get to eat

From Cas - 8/11/17 - 4:42pm: Sounds like a plan.

  
  


*

  
  


Castiel arrives at Sam’s house at noon on Saturday, wearing those damn aviators, a Pac Man t-shirt, and jeans that fit him so well Dean almost whimpers when Castiel walks past him into the house.

Sam’s busy cooking, but when he hears Dean and Castiel come into the kitchen he rushes over to greet them.

“I’ll be damned, you really _are_ Castiel Novak,” Sam says, shaking Castiel’s hand.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean? You thought I was making him up? You _saw him at the motel,_ ” Dean says, offended.

Sam shrugs. “I mean there was always a slim chance this was some weird prank…”

Castiel smiles. “I assure you, there is no pranking going on.”

“You know I’ve read online that the cast of your show is _always_ pranking each other, that true?”

“Those stories always get exaggerated, there wasn’t _that_ much pranking. Well… nothing grandiose, anyway. We were more likely to change the background on each other’s phones to something salacious, or slip soy sauce in the director’s coffee.”

Dean gags just imagining how that would taste. “Speaking of soy sauce in coffee… well not really, but I hope you’re hungry. Sammy’s making chicken fingers.”

“They’re chicken tenders,” Sam says.

Dean rolls his eyes. “What’s the difference?”

Sam gestures to the breaded pieces of chicken waiting to be deep fried. “Those are way too big to be fingers.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Dean says.

“No one says it po-tah-to,” Sam replies.

“I knew someone that said po-tah-to,” Castiel says. At Sam’s incredulous expression, he continues. “One of the regular directors for the show. Once we realized that’s how he said it, we always tried to find excuses to get him to say it again.”

Dean snickers. “And here I thought you were _so_ grown up.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to give you _that_ impression,” Castiel says, poking at Dean with a smirk.

Dean feels his heart do a dumb little somersault. Ah, shit. He needs to chill out, it hasn’t even been five minutes yet.

  
  


*

  
  


As it turns out, Sam and Castiel get along pretty well. Sam loves hearing about random details of filming television, and Castiel practically creams himself when he sees Sam’s small but god damn expensive collection of rare books.

They spend a few hours watching a football game on TV. Or, at least Sam and Castiel do. The three of them are all on the couch, Castiel in the middle, and Dean spends the entire game thinking about how Castiel’s leg is pressed up against his. By the time Sam turns the TV off, Dean’s not even sure who the fuck was playing or if they watched the full game.

There are long stretches of time where Dean feels not at all present, more distracted by the sound of Castiel’s laugh, or the scent of ginger and cinnamon that seems to cling to him. Twice Dean loses track of the conversation because he’s too busy wondering what conditioner Castiel uses.

Damn.

When the evening rolls around, Garth and Benny show up, which actually helps Dean be a little more aware of his surroundings. He hasn’t seen too much of them in the past couple of years, but every time he gets together with them they fall right back into step like it’s the summer after senior year all over again. Garth’s married and running a dental practice in town and Benny’s a proud father to his daughter Elizabeth, but when they get together with Dean everyone’s collective maturity drops like a stone.

It’s nice.

Benny and Garth take to Castiel easily. Neither of them have seen _any_ of his work, so they’re not awkwardly starstruck, though Benny does talk Castiel into taking a photo with him so he can blow his daughter’s mind later.

The five of them spend the night drinking beers and playing poker while Dean’s Die Hard dvds play in the background.

Castiel, as it turns out, has a god damn impeccable poker face when he wants to. In fact, by the time midnight rolls around, he’s up two hundred dollars and so smug about it Dean’s not sure if he wants to punch him or kiss him.

Obviously, Dean does neither.

The night ends in a slumber party, or whatever one would call five men in their mid to late thirties hanging out all night. Slumber party sounds a little like they’re a gaggle of teens braiding hair and trading Pokémon cards.

It’s fun. Dean feels at peace, like he does when he’s at Harvelle’s with everyone but Ketch. At around three in the morning Sam and Garth crash on Sam’s bed, Benny goes to sleep on the couch, and Dean and Castiel lie next to each other on the floor. Through absolutely no orchestrating on Dean’s part. Really.

Except Dean did tell Benny to take the couch, but Benny has a bad back, he shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor. Nothing hinky there.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Dean, thank you for making me feel welcome,” Castiel says softly. He’s lying on his back, but his head is turned to the right towards Dean.

“You made yourself welcome, man, you’re a likeable guy.”

“Still, it felt like I was… part of a group. I haven’t had that since the show wrapped filming. I’ve missed it terribly.”

“You don’t have friends in Wichita?”

Benny lets out a loud snore. Oh good, their conversation isn’t interrupting his chainsaw impression.

“Not really. I wasn’t very social in my youth, so I didn’t have any old friends to come back to. I mostly spend my time with Hannah and Gabriel… Michael when he visits. Plus my niece. I suppose I’m getting along well with the odd woman who lives next to Hannah. We jog together some mornings. She calls me Clarence and insists on describing her romantic conquests in excruciating detail.”

“Sounds like a friend to me.”

Castiel smiles. “Very well, I have one friend in Wichita.”

“Well if I come back, you’ll have two.”

“Do you think you will?”

“Right now, not really, it’s hard to picture. But that’s because I quit my job and things with Tess are a damn nightmare.”

“You seem happy here, I’ll admit.”

“I like living with Sammy, he’s always been my best friend.”

“I suppose that’s true for Hannah and I as well.”

“Not Gabriel?”

“Gabriel doesn’t have friends, he has victims.”

“Serial killer?”

“Pathological prankster.”

Dean reaches out and pats Castiel’s cheek. “Poor baby.” His hand lingers a little too long, and Castiel covers it with his own.

“Dean…” he mutters, but that’s all he says.

In this moment, it really feels like… like they could—

“If you boys need a condom, jus’ let me know,” Benny mumbles from the couch.

Dean pulls his hand away and rolls over to start hitting Benny with his pillow. God damn asshole.

 


	12. Chapter 12

To Cas - 8/14/17 - 8:17am: just had a dream that you went back on halo project

To Cas - 8/14/17 - 8:18am: and they wanted to make up for firing you so they had you playing three characters at once

From Cas - 8/14/17 - 9:21am: That sounds like a lot of work.

To Cas - 8/14/17 - 9:51am: they all looked different too, one had long black hair and a scar down one eye, and then one looked like you and one had pink hair

To Cas - 8/14/17 - 9:52am: like eye melting pink

From Cas - 8/14/17 - 10:21am: So, you’re saying I should dye my hair pink?

To Cas - 8/14/17 - 10:55am: dream you was pulling it off i think, go for it

To Cas - 8/14/17 - 10:57am: you decide if you’ll go back yet?

From Cas - 8/14/17 - 11:09am: Not yet.

From Cas - 8/14/17 - 11:10am: The problem isn’t so much deciding what to do if I go back as it is deciding what I’ll do with myself if I don’t.

From Cas - 8/14/17 - 11:14am: Believe it or not, laying around my sister’s house all day isn’t very fulfilling.

To Cas - 8/14/17 - 12:06pm: then you’re doing it wrong

  
  


*

  
  


From Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:13pm: Would you like to come over tomorrow?

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:14pm: sure what are we doing

From Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:17pm: Entertaining a six year old.

From Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:18pm: Hannah’s supposed to help out at a day camp tomorrow, and Hael is too young to come with her.

From Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:18pm: Hael wants to meet you.

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:24pm: really?

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:24pm: you told your niece about me?

From Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:27pm: Of course. You’re a close friend, Dean.

From Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:28pm: Also she wanted to know who I’m always texting.

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:30pm: fuck i gotta figure out how to impress a six year old

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:31pm: i’ll ask sam, his girlfriend’s about that age

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:33pm: it’s not as fun if sam isn’t around to know i’m making fun of him

From Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:47pm: So, you’ll come?

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:48pm: be there with bells on

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:48pm: did i really just say that

To Cas - 8/18/17 - 7:49pm: fuck when the fuck did i turn into my fucking grandma

  
  


*

  
  


Dean changes his clothes seven times on Saturday morning. Nothing seems right. What the hell does someone wear to meet their friend’s six year old niece?

“Dude, what is _wrong_ with you?” Sam says when Dean comes out of the bathroom in yet another outfit; khaki slacks and a light blue polo shirt.

“I’m trying to look kid friendly.”

“That’s…” Sam scrubs a hand over his face. “I mean that’s sweet, but Dean as long as you don’t have swear words or naked chicks on your t-shirt I think whatever you want to wear is fine.”

Dean has a t-shirt with both of those things on it. “I just don’t want him to think I’m not taking it seriously.”

“Does he _want_ you to take it seriously?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Dean this isn’t even _his_ kid.”

“So?”

“I just want him to know I’m good with kids!”

Sam gets a look on his face like he’s either about to start laughing, or he really has to fart. Dean hopes it’s the latter. “Why do you want him to know that, Dean?”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Just… you know, because if I don’t get along with his niece he might not want to be friends, or whatever…”

“You said good with _kids,_ not—”

“ _Oak tree,_ ” Dean says emphatically.

Sam’s smug-as-fuck grin doesn’t get any smaller, but he does thankfully stop talking.

  
  


*

  
  


Dean’s halfway to Wichita when he starts getting the intense urge to turn back and change his clothes again. What the fuck is he wearing? He looks like he works at the fucking GAP or some shit. There’s no time to turn around, though. Dean blew too much time changing his clothes, fixing his hair, and arguing with Sam.

Dean’s being ridiculous, he knows. He’s already met Hannah, Gabriel, and Michael, after all. Dean doesn’t know why this feels so significant, but the fact is that it _does_ feel that way _,_ so he’s nervous.

He arrives at Hannah’s house at just before eleven in the morning, because Castiel had said he wanted to take them to lunch.

“Breathe, man,” he says, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel before killing the engine. “This is only a big deal if you make it one.” He takes a deep breath, then another ten… maybe more.

He really, really wishes he hadn’t shown up dressed like a software engineer or whatever.

He steps out of his car and nearly screams; Hael is standing on the sidewalk, when did she get there?

“I get the feeling you might be feeling some trepidation,” Hael says.

Dean stares at Hael, slack-jawed. Did she just fucking say _trepidation_? “Uh, hi.”

Hael smiles. “Come inside! Uncle Cassie is still getting dressed. I’m not supposed to come out here alone, so we gotta go back in.” She grabs Dean’s hand and starts pulling him over toward the house.

Jesus, kids are a trip.

  
  


*

  
  


So much worry for nothing. Hael is a bizarre and downright _delightful_ child, with a lot of energy and a vocabulary probably larger than Dean’s. She takes to Dean instantly, and after a noisy lunch at a nearby pizza place, she asks Dean to help her build a structurally sound (her words, not his) popsicle stick castle.

“You’ve come to the right man,” Dean says with a grin, “it just so happens I’ve spent a lot of years working in construction.”

“Great, great!” Hael says, running out of the living room.

“Is it okay to do craft stuff out here?” Dean says, already clearing things off the coffee table.

Castiel is sitting in an easy chair that looks criminally comfortable, working on a crossword puzzle. “Absolutely,” he says, smiling fondly at Dean, “don’t worry about that at all. Keeping a pristine home with a precocious and curious child is nearly impossible.”

“She’s like… ridiculously fucking smart sounding for a rugrat.”

“Regardless, don’t let her handle any of the sharper implements while crafting. A high IQ cannot make up for undeveloped dexterity.”

“I’ll assume that’s ‘smart guy’ talk for ‘kids shouldn’t play with knives no matter how many words they know’.”

“Got it in one,” Castiel says, firing a finger gun at Dean. He glances down at his fingers, mystified. “Finger guns. I’m turning into Gabriel.”

“Pew, pew!” Dean replies, firing two finger guns at Castiel in return then pretending to holster them at his waist.

Hael comes back out, holding a large tub of what looks like crafting supplies. She’s got her hair tied back and she’s changed into clothes that look to be spattered with paint. Damn, this kid means business.

“You look ready for work, kid,” Dean says.

“One time I got a big purple stain on my _favorite_ dress, so now I always wear this to do art things. It’s my uniform!” Hael says. She frowns, looking Dean over. “Do you have other clothes to wear? Those look like nice pants.”

“I never wear these, it doesn’t matter if they get messy,” Dean says. Not totally true. He often wore these slacks to work, but he’s quit that job, so who cares if he gets glue or markers or whatever on them. “I just thought I should dress fancy to make a good impression.” Wow, why did he say that out loud?

Hael beams though, nodding. “Better than showing up sloppy! Whenever I’m at Daddy’s house, his friends always smell like old cigarettes,” Hael says, expression twisted with distaste.

“They don’t smoke around you, do they?” Castiel says from his chair.

Hael shakes her head vigorously. “Ishim tried to smoke in the house and Daddy got _so mad_! He called him a—” Hael pauses, eyes wide. “Well, I’m not allowed to say that word.”

“Your father is a reasonable man,” Castiel says, “you should tell him that his friends don’t smell nice.”

“I can do that?”

“Of course.”

“ _Good,_ because I hate the ashtray smell, but I know it’s rude to tell someone they smell bad.”

“Well tell your father in private.”

Hael nods emphatically and starts pulling supplies out of her bin. “I’ll do that on Friday!”

“Your dad live in Wichita?” Dean says, helping Hael take items out.

“Arkansas!” Hael says.

“Hael’s father lives in Fayetteville,” Castiel adds.

“Yep! Once a month Daddy drives all the way here on Friday and we drive all the way back and I spend the weekend there! Sometimes he comes real early so I can sleep the whole way there, it’s kind of a boring ride. Poster board!” Dean’s a little thrown by that last bit, but then Hael goes running out of the room and comes back holding a piece of green poster board.

“Wow, you’ve had this house planned for a while, huh?” Dean says.

“Just a few days, I made some houses before, but they came out ugly.”

“Not ugly,” Castiel chides.

Hael sighs and rolls her eyes. “They were _works in progress_ ,” she says, voice full of derision. “That I threw in the trash.”

Dean grins and reaches for a ruler. “Well, I don’t wanna say I’m an expert on this kinda thing, but I think we’re gonna build you a keeper this time.”

  
  


*

  
  


It’s been so long since Dean spent time with a child, he forgot one of the best parts: getting to do childish things unapologetically. If Dean sat in his apartment with Tessa or in Sam’s house and spent his day building a multi-level house out of popsicle sticks, they’d probably ask him if he was doing okay. Here though, it’s perfectly fine, because he’s helping Hael out. Hael is ridiculously patient for a child, and meticulous. Sam was like that as a kid too, but not until his preteen years. She’s determined to get it right, and has no problem spending all day on a single project. When Dean asked if it was a project for school, she said no, school hadn’t started yet. This was just for fun. What a trip.

Once in awhile Dean glances up from his work and he’ll catch Castiel watching them, with an almost indescribable smile on his face. It makes Dean’s heart go crazy every time. Castiel doesn’t offer to help, instead spends the day on crosswords, reading a book, then disappearing to make dinner. He practically has to drag Dean and Hael away to eat their macaroni and cheese, they’re very engrossed.

By the time they’re finished it’s nearly eight, and they have a three story house complete with a yard and a garage mounted on the green posterboard. Castiel takes about a thousand pictures with his phone, and gets Dean and Hael to pose with it.

“What do you think, kid?” Dean says as Hael is surveying her work.

“You’re right, it’s a keeper,” she says, smiling with approval. She runs over to hug Dean. “Thank you for your…” she glances at Castiel.

“Expertise,” he says.

“Thank you for your expertise.”

Dean nods, reaching down to ruffle Hael’s hair. “Thank you right back.”

  
  


*

  
  


Not long after that Castiel puts Hael to bed while Dean cleans up scraps of wood and plucks some glue stuck to the carpet.

“That was a lot of fucking fun,” Dean says when Castiel comes back out.

“You got along very well,” Castiel says, clearly pleased.

“So glad about that…” Dean says.

Castiel tilts his head to the side, brows furrowed. “You were so nervous when you arrived, and…” He gestures at Dean’s clothes. “This isn’t exactly you. Why try to impress a child?”

“I guess I got it in my head that this was like… a test or something, you know? And if Hael didn’t like me, we couldn’t—” Dean cuts himself off, because _woah,_ where was he going with that sentence?

“Couldn’t what?”

“You know… be buds or whatever.”

“I like spending time with you, Dean. I wouldn’t change my mind if a six year old didn’t find you fun. Well… as long as you weren’t unkind to her. But it’s hard to imagine you being unkind to a child.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I yelled at a kid dressed as an astronaut for egging my car, once.” Castiel gasps and covers his mouth with mock outrage. Dean rolls his eyes. “Dick.”

  
  


*

  
  


Once in awhile, Dean will commandeer Sam’s desktop computer so he can play games with Charlie online. Sam’s not home when Dean gets back from Wichita, so Dean makes a beeline for his brother’s room and logs into his Steam account. Charlie messages him right away.

Moondork: Howdy ho!

Impala67: YOU’RE the ho

Moondork: Dude so Ash and Billie? Officially dating.

Impala67: WHAT

Impala67: HOW

Moondork: I KNOW. I’m mystified, Dean.

Impala67: congrats to him i guess? he shot for the moon and fucking reached the moon

Moondork: Honestly I’m jealous, Billie is god damn hot.

Impala67: she sure is

Moondork: Anyway, what’s up?

Impala67: just got back from seeing Cas

Impala67: officially met his niece

Impala67: adorable kid, she’s gonna be the next you when she grows up

Moondork: OFFICIALLY, huh? Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Impala67: don’t

Moondork: I have to.

Impala67: there’s nothing like that going on ok?

Moondork: Fine, ruin my fun. When do I get to meet him, anyway?

Impala67: never?

Moondork: COME ON. I’m not going to embarrass you.

Impala67: yeah I don’t believe that

Impala67: look it’s a delicate friendship... when things are more solid, I’ll see if he’s open to you slobbering all over him and asking for his autograph

Moondork: I’m the only one in our group that didn’t get to see him, it’s so not fair.

Impala67: you want me to tell him that my lesbian friend wants to get to second base with him

Moondork: NO.

Moondork: I will literally kill you.

Impala67: literally

Moondork: L I T E R A L L Y

Impala67: so you wanna play minecraft or what

  
  


*

  
  


It’s nearly midnight when Dean hears the front door closing. He’s building a castle on Charlie’s Minecraft server. Charlie and Mick are building a giant pink penis in front of it, but it’s fine. They’re using wool blocks, Dean can set it on fire when they log off.

“Hey!” Sam says, coming into the room. “Is that a dick?”

“It’s not mine, it’s Charlie’s.”

“Is it hollow inside, or a solid statue?”

Dean turns from the computer to look at Sam. “Why the fuck does that matter?”

“Just wondering,” Sam says, sitting on his bed. He starts pulling his shoes off. “So, Tracy and I broke up.”

“Woah, really? Just now?”

“Well, like half an hour ago. But yeah.”

“You okay?”

“I am, it’s not a big deal. It was a fling, we both knew that.”

“And your fling has… flung…?”

“Pretty much. No hard feelings, really, I’m just kind of… ready to go for something a little more serious, and she’s definitely not.”

Jesus. Sam’s like casually slipping in this breakup news like it’s no big thing, meanwhile Dean and Tessa’s relationship has been dying a slow and ugly death for months now and Dean can barely look the situation in the eye and call it what it is.

“You have someone in mind?”

“Nah, but I’m not going to just stay with her while waiting for something better to come along.” Sam’s expression scrunches up. “Uh, no offense.”

“Wait, no offense to what?”

Sam takes a step back. “Uh, nothing.”

“Don’t fucking inch away from me, why would I take offense? Do you think that’s what I’m doing with Tessa?”

“Not on _purpose_.”

“Sam…”

“How about we pretend this didn’t happen and go hit up Fuzzy’s Taco Shop?”

Dean will definitely take the out. He types a quick goodbye to Charlie and Mick, then closes his game. “Alright, but you’re buying.”

  
  


 


	13. Chapter 13

From Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:33am: I finished reading that book you recommended the other day.

To Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:34am: what book?

From Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:36am: Ready Player One.

To Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:38am: okay you definitely misunderstood that conversation

To Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:38am: that wasn’t a rec, i hated it

From Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:42am: Oh.

From Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:42am: Oops.

From Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:43am: Now I don’t feel bad for not enjoying it.

To Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:44am: dumbass

To Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:45am: i mean that in the nicest way possible

From Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:46am: Of course, Assbutt.

To Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:46am: assbutt?

From Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:47am: Goodnight, Dean. Talk soon.

To Cas - 8/23/17 - 12:49am: ASSBUTT??????

  
  


*

  
  


From Cas - 8/25/17 - 8:09am: I was out jogging and I saw a dog the size of a bicycle.

To Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:00am: st bernard?

From Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:13am: Great Dane.

To Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:14am: pic?

From Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:17am: I didn’t have my phone with me.

To Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:18am: you’re breaking my heart man i thought i was going to see you next to some giant dog

From Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:22am: I see you attend the Gabriel Novak school of “Pics or it didn’t happen”.

To Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:23am: no i believe you i just wanna see

From Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:24am: If I see the dog again, I will accost the owner and ask for a selfy.

To Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:30am: selfie

From Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:32am: What in the world is the difference?

To Cas - 8/25/17 - 9:33am: fine if you don’t care about spelling just keep calling it selfy like a FOOL

  
  


*

  
  


To Cas - 8/26/17 - 1:13am: just hung out with a couple of my wichita friends

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 1:14am: i wanted it to not be weird without tess but it was kinda weird

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 1:14am: it wasn’t bad

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 1:15am: and it was pretty cool that they drove two hours to see me

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 1:17am: just gotta get used to it i guess

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 1:29am: you’re asleep aren’t you

From Cas - 8/26/17 - 10:14am: Apologies, I was indeed sleeping.

From Cas - 8/26/17 - 10:19am: Adjustments are hard, awkwardness is hard, distance is hard. But good friends are worth it.

From Cas - 8/26/17 - 10:21am: I have a friend I see maybe once a year, but we always have a good time, and we always make the effort.

From Cas - 8/26/17 - 10:23am: Also Balthazar routinely sends me Belgian chocolate…

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 11:54am: BALTHAZAR?

From Cas - 8/26/17 - 11:57am: Said the man with a friend named Ketchup.

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 11:59am: first of all it’s KETCH, not ketchup

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 12:00pm: second of all he is so not my friend

To Cas - 8/26/17 - 12:01pm: third of all ketchup is fucking perfect and i’ll be calling him that now thank you

  
  


*

  
  


From Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:23pm: Hael is with her father for the weekend.

From Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:24pm: Hannah has seized the opportunity and is off on a date with instructions for me to not “wait up”.

From Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:24pm: I’m a little lonely.

To Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:34pm: you inviting me over?

From Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:35pm: Actually, I was going to see if I could come see you, but that works too.

To Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:36pm: you’re in luck, i happen to have just gotten cancelled on by my friend benny. his ex is in town, blah blah

From Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:38pm: You’ll drive up here?

To Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:39pm: sure

From Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:40pm: In that case I’ll bake something.

To Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:41pm: oh really what?

From Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:43pm: I seem to recall you saying you loved lasagna the other day…

To Cas - 9/01/17 - 5:44pm: SHIT BE THERE BY 8:15 MAN GET COOKING

 


	14. Chapter 14

By the time Dean gets to Crown Heights, he’s only got one thing on his mind, and that thing is lasagna. When Castiel answers the door, Dean bellows “Where’s my dinner?!” and grins wide. Castiel grins back, and that… well that puts one other thing on Dean’s mind. Damn, what a cute smile.

“I just took it out of the oven,” Castiel says, stepping to the side to let Dean in. Dean gets hit in the face with a whiff of _cheesytomatoherb_ scented _goodness,_ and oh yeah, that’s the stuff.

“Good, I brought my eatin’ pants,” Dean says, snorting when Castiel actually looks at his pants. “It’s an expression.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s not, but I suppose I can take your word for it.”

“Good,” Dean says, clapping Castiel on the back. “You look nice,” he adds absently. Castiel _does_ look nice. He’s not wearing anything special, just jeans and a green t-shirt, but he looks damn good. Dean probably shouldn’t have said anything, though.

“Y-you… you look nice too,” Castiel mutters. “Is that a new shirt?”

Dean cocks up one eyebrow. “No?”

“We haven’t seen each other enough for me to know all your shirts, have we,” Castiel says. He’s being a little awkward tonight, Dean’s into it.

“That’s actually a fair point. I guess most of our interacting has just been in daily texting sessions… uh… not that that’s _bad,_ you just don’t see me or my clothes, and—” For fuck’s sake, is awkwardness contagious?

Castiel nods, though, so at least he understood what Dean meant. “Speaking of texting, I finally watched that video you sent me yesterday,” he says, guiding Dean toward the kitchen. There’s lasagna _and_ what looks like garlic bread waiting on the stove. _Yessss_.

“And?”

“Fake.”

“What? No it’s not.”

“Didn’t you read the comments?”

“No sane person reads YouTube comments, Cas.”

“Well, I did. It’s fake, the bear was added in digitally, there was nothing chasing the snowboarder originally.”

“Aw _man,_ why did you tell me that?! I love that video!”

Castiel looks at Dean with a pout, a ridiculously fake and sardonic pout, actually. “Poor Dean.”

“See if I ever send you any cool videos again.”

Castiel takes two plates out of a cabinet and starts piling food on. “That’ll show me.”

“Okay, well maybe I’ll send you _twice_ as many videos.”

“Fair enough, but I’m going to tell you if it’s fake.”

“Why?”

“Honesty is the best policy.”

“Said the _actor._ ”

“Don’t be ridiculous, no one watches my show and thinks it’s real.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, that’s for sure. No government agency would name itself fuckin’ _Halo Project,_ for one.”

“When we shot the pilot, the working title was Angels and Agents.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Halo Project doesn’t seem so bad now, I take it?”

  
  


*

  
  


Dinner is delicious, and Dean very nearly hugs Castiel when he puts a few servings in a Tupperware container for Dean to take home. He’ll have to ration this out. Lasagna with fatty cheese and beef, that needs to be treasured, especially while he’s living with Sam.

After dinner they end up sitting on the couch drinking wine. Not much, since Dean’s not about to be some asshole driving while drunk, but it’s still pleasant. Dean doesn’t drink wine all that often, he’s a beer and whiskey kind of guy, but this is pretty good stuff. Dense and plummy, Dean would say if he knew anything about wine, which he really doesn’t. It feels classy, like they should have a cheese and cracker plate on the coffee table and maybe a crackling fire in the background instead of some baking show on PBS with the volume nearly at zero.

“So,” Castiel says, swirling the small amount of wine in his glass, “I’m not going to rejoin the show.”

Dean looks from the table of danishes on the TV to Castiel. “Really?”

“Yes, I’m willing to come back to do a few episodes, but not an entire twenty-two episode season… or half season in this case.”

Dean’s kind of relieved to hear that, honestly; he looked it up, it’s like a thirty hour drive to Vancouver from Lawrence. “Wow, that’s… so that’s it, huh?”

“I suppose.”

“How do you feel?”

“A bit sad, I think. But it feels good to have made a decision. The show was… _is_ an important part of me, and it hurt to have to let it go when my character was killed, but… but I did let it go for the most part, and it’s not what I want now.”

“What _do_ you want now?”

“That I’m still not sure of. Perhaps a show with a shorter filming season, I could see if any movies would have me, or I could stop acting altogether. When I was younger I wanted to be a florist.”

“A florist?”

“I loved flowers. My apartment in Vancouver was full of flowers and floral paintings, though they’re in storage now.”

Dean almost makes a crack about flowers not being manly, but he sees the insincere deflection for what it is and discards the thought. “Well, if you’ve been saving your wages like a good boy…”

“Not as much as I should have, I suppose, but certainly enough to start a small flower shop if I wanted.”

Dean smiles. He can totally see Castiel working in some cute little store full of flowers. It’d probably have a dumb name like Back to the Fuschia, or Plant Parenthood, and Castiel would wear a green apron and always smell like roses…

Dean actually has to shake his head to break free of the fantasy he slips into.

“Honestly, that’s pretty awesome, I’m glad you figured out what you wanted.”

“Me too. If I hadn’t have been fired, maybe I would have been content doing the show until it ended, but… I _was_ fired, I’m in a different place now. Maybe this path will work out, maybe it won’t, but what matters is I’m doing what I want, and not what my agent or my showrunner or even my fans want.”

“Yeah, that’s…” Dean trails off, thinking. He wants to be like Castiel, who isn’t hanging onto the familiar past the point where it no longer makes sense or feels right. Not that his relationship is like an acting gig in any way, but… well, here he is, on what might as well be a date, and he’s happier here than he has been with Tessa in far too long, and he knows why that is.

“Dean?”

Dean realizes he’s staring at Castiel, and he feels his cheeks flush. “Sorry, just uh… wandered over a landmine filled with introspection or whatever.”

“It’s fine, are you okay? Should we call it a night?”

“No, that’s… that’s not what I want.”

Something in Castiel’s expression changes, though Dean wouldn’t know how to articulate what. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Can’t you just guess?”

Castiel smiles, warm, fond. “I can, but I think it’s pretty important that you say what you want out loud.”

“You first.”

Castiel’s smile grows. He shakes his head.

Dean swallows, setting his wine glass down on the coffee table. When did his life drift into chick flick territory? More importantly, when did he move closer to Castiel on the couch?

He looks at Castiel, because Castiel deserves his openness, his honestly. “I like being around you. I like getting to know you, but I also like… this feeling that I’ve known you a lot longer than I have.”

Castiel moves closer, teeth digging into his lower lip as he stares at Dean with absolutely undisguised want. These are good things, Dean doesn’t have to be scared. He grows bolder.

“We text every day and it never fuckin’ feels like enough. When we talk sometimes the sound of your voice sends shivers down my back.”

Fuck, he’s really saying this out loud, isn’t he.

“There’s a glass angel in my mom’s house that I couldn’t stop staring at last time I was over, and after ten minutes I realized it was because it was the same color as your fucking eyes. I look at you and I want—”

Castiel crashes into him like an ocean wave, hands framing Dean’s face as he pulls him into a kiss. There’s nothing cute or gentle like their first kiss back in that bar; this kiss is fierce, it’s absolute. Dean groans, mouth opening for Castiel’s questing tongue immediately. They kiss for a long minute, hands roaming restlessly, then they pull apart.

“I thought you wanted me to say what I want,” Dean says, a little breathless.

“My apologies,” Castiel says, leaning close to kiss the corner of Dean’s mouth, “continue.”

“You, I want you,” Dean says, so there’s absolutely no mistaking it.

“Have me, then,” Castiel says. It’s cheesy and flowery and Dean’s so fucking on fire inside from hearing it. At nearly the same time they scramble to their feet, and Castiel pulls Dean into another kiss even as he tries to steer him towards the stairs to the second floor.

They stumble over each other, and it feels like every step Dean takes makes his desperation grow. He pulls at the soft green t-shirt Castiel’s wearing, and Castiel immediately pulls back so he can yank the shirt off. Dean all but growls at the expanse of tantalizing tawny skin, backing Castiel into the wall by the foot of the stairs so he can lick and kiss Castiel from neck to shoulder, pinning one wrist to the wall as though Castiel might try to move away.

The journey up the stairs takes a long time, there’s a lot of kissing and clothes shedding along the way. By the time they actually stagger into the guest room Castiel sleeps in, they’re both down to their underwear, and Dean’s only wearing one sock. Castiel is wearing long boxer briefs that are an absolutely eye-searing shade of orange, but Dean can barely speak let alone form a sentence that would enable him to give Castiel shit about them.

Castiel is often quiet, thoughtful, gentle. Dean thought that would be mirrored in the bedroom; it’s not. As soon as the door is closed he all but tosses Dean into the bed, crawling over him while Dean uses the toes of his right foot to pull off the sock on his left.

Their hips press together once Castiel is on top of Dean, and Dean feels his lower half jerk with electricity when their cocks come into contact. Castiel is hard, and Dean wants… holy fuck does he ever want. He’ll even let Castiel keep those ugly fucking boxer briefs on while he fucks Dean if he wants.

“D-do you have—” Dean moans when he feels Castiel’s tongue sweep along his left nipple, almost forgetting his train of thought.

“I do,” Castiel mutters into his skin.

“Can we—”

“Whatever you want.”

“Fuck, want you to fucking fuck me, Cas.”

Castiel bites down gently on Dean’s nipple, hips grinding against Dean’s cock. Shit, shit, shit. “I can do that,” he says, rocking against Dean, “I want to do that.” He rises up on his elbows so he can lean over to the side of the bed, fishing around until he finds an open bottle of lube and an unopened box of condoms. Dean pulls his own boxers off while Castiel is tearing the box open, flinging them so hard they knock over something on the dresser by the window.

It’s been a long time since Dean did this, or had it done to him. He forgot how _long_ it takes. Castiel’s fingers are fast, impatient, slick… but it feels like it takes forever for him to work Dean open. Meanwhile, Dean’s making all sorts of embarrassing breathy sounds, writhing on top of what looks to be a lovely hand-stitched quilt. When Castiel finally deems Dean loose enough he stops sucking a bruise into Dean’s inner thigh so he can roll on a condom.

“Ribbed for her pleasure?” Dean says as he glances at the open box, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Gabriel stuck them in there last month, something about ‘life goals’.”

“Alright you ribbed fuck, let’s do this.”

“Patience,” Castiel chides, rubbing the head of his latex-covered cock against Dean’s rim.

“Oh, so suddenly you’ve got all the time in the world?” Dean says, glaring while Castiel shoves a couple of pillows under Dean’s ass.

Castiel practically purrs, draping himself over Dean so he can whisper in Dean’s ear. “This moment is important, Dean, I want to savor it. Maybe we’ll have one night together, maybe thousands, but this will always be…” Castiel bites down on Dean’s ear lobe as he pushes the head of his cock past Dean’s rim.

Dean’s arms go around Castiel’s shoulders almost involuntarily. He groans, long and low at the slow, inexorable shove of Castiel into his body, toes curling as his voice cuts off on a high gasp when Castiel bottoms out.

“Always be what?” Dean croaks, shuddering at the rasp of Castiel’s stubble against his own.

“I seem to have lost my train of thought.”

It’s gentle at first, but just at first. There’s sighing, slow rocking, Castiel trailing kisses along Dean’s jaw. Once Castiel works up a rhythm, once he works a little more lube in between them, the pace ramps up. Dean’s lost then, lost when Castiel grabs him by the meat of his thighs to hold him open, lost at the sporadic, electric contact with his prostate. His hips are rocking of their own accord, desperate, like if he stops moving Castiel will too. Silly, but he can’t fucking help it.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel mutters, over and over, “you feel so _good_.” And Dean wants to reciprocate the statement but all he can do is moan, eyes hooded, moving closer and closer to flying apart. At some point Castiel must let go of Dean’s legs, because now they’re wrapped around Castiel’s waist while Castiel braces himself on both hands, fucking Dean smooth and hard.

Fuck it’s intense, maybe because they’re fucking missionary and making a lot of god damn eye contact, maybe because Dean hasn’t bottomed since his first week in Wichita, maybe it’s just _Castiel_. Either way, Dean’s noisier than he can ever remember being in bed, and he doesn’t have the focus to try to chill out. There’s a small crick forming in Dean’s back, but he doesn’t want to change positions, he doesn’t want to stop _this_ for anything other than the completion that is _rapidly_ approaching.

“Dean,” Castiel says for the tenth or hundredth time since they hit the mattress. “I’m close, _ah,_ are you— touch yourself, Dean.”

“Don’t gotta,” Dean groans, voice tight. Nope, he doesn’t have to put a hand on his dick at all, he’s going to come just like this. Soon, soon, _fuck—_

He comes hard, starbursts behind his eyes like a fucking cartoon, shout clawing its way free from his constricting throat. He thinks Castiel is coming or about to come too, but his brain is ringing too hard to be sure. All he knows is that by the time he gets his wits back about him, Castiel has stopped moving and is panting heavily into the side of Dean’s neck.

“God _damn_ ,” Dean says, voice hoarse. A minute or so has passed, he thinks, maybe longer. It can’t have been too long, they’re both still panting and sweaty. He feels Castiel’s tongue on his skin.

“I like how you taste,” Castiel says, words slurred just a little. Fuck, that’s a sexy fucking thing to say.

Eventually Castiel gets up to dispose of the condom and hunt down a wet washcloth, and Dean finally gets a good long look at Castiel in all his naked glory. Holy hell, Dean wants to jump right back into the fray, even if certain parts of him aren’t quite ready for that.

There was this niggling fear in the back of Dean’s mind, that maybe the build-up was all they had, but even as Castiel is gently dabbing Dean’s stomach and softening cock with a cool washcloth, he knows this is more than sexual tension.

“You look pleased,” Castiel says.

Dean groans happily, stretching and yawning, then grinning when he sees the way Castiel’s eyes linger on his body. “I am.”

“Good. Me too. Should we… snuggle?”

“You a cuddler, Cas?”

Castiel bites his lower lip, looking shy for a man that’s kneeling on the bed bare-ass naked. “I might be.”

Dean grins, scooting back on the bed so he can get under the somewhat sweaty quilt. “Me too.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Dean wakes slowly, as he often does, but when his eyelids flutter open he catches Castiel abruptly looking away and grabbing his phone from his nightstand.

“Smooth,” Dean mutters, grinning.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean,” Castiel says unconvincingly, cheeks already turning red.

Dean’s mouth tastes like cotton and death but he still pulls Castiel down into a kiss, letting out an involuntary giggle when he feels the cool surface of Castiel’s phone touch his side.

“Odd… but adorable,” Castiel murmurs, kissing from Dean’s mouth, to his jaw, to his neck, his collarbone, then back up to his mouth. Dean could get really used to this. “How about a shower?” Castiel says while tracing his fingers lightly along Dean’s stirring cock.

“Hard to say no when you touch me like that,” Dean says, lifting his hips slightly and whining when Castiel pulls his hand away.

“Follow me, then.”

Dean forces himself out of the incredibly cozy bed, following Castiel to the bathroom. Hannah’s shower has fantastic water pressure, but Dean’s too distracted by Castiel to really enjoy it. By the time the glass panes of the shower door have started to fog, Dean has Castiel pressed against the wall. One hand is linked with Castiel’s, pressed into the pale green tile, while the other is working Castiel’s cock with slow, tight strokes while Dean ruts his dick against the cleft of Castiel’s ass.

Castiel is always nice to look at, but he’s almost _hypnotic_ in pleasure; Dean’s already wishing he had something to record the beautiful sounds he makes, the sinuous way his body moves between Dean and the shower wall. Dean finds himself sucking a bruise low on Castiel’s neck, and judging by the sounds Castiel makes, he’s into it.

There’s less of a rush this time, but it’s still not too long before they’re both reaching their orgasms and slumping against the wall with sated sighs.

God, this is the best morning Dean’s had in a really long time.

  
  


*

  
  


After some scrubbing and shampooing, Dean follows Castiel downstairs, wrapped in Castiel’s plush blue robe. Castiel is wearing sweatpants and no shirt, so Dean gets to stare at the hickey he left like a possessive high schooler. They gather their discarded clothing from the steps as they come down, giggling like kids. Dean feels like he could float away on this giddy feeling.

“Well, well, well.” Dean and Castiel both startle, looking toward the arch leading to the kitchen. Hannah is leaning against the fridge, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“Hannah… when, uh… how long—”

“Well, I came home last night and heard some sounds I _never_ want to hear again, Cas, and then I went to sleep with earplugs in, and as soon as I took them out I heard you _again,_ and… I mean hey I’m happy for you guys, but… yuck.”

Dean understands where Hannah’s coming from. He’s heard Sam having sex before and it’s just fucking horrific.

“My apologies,” Castiel says. He pulls on the shirt he was wearing last night, looking shy now.

“Sorry to ruin your morning after bubble,” Hannah says with a yawn, “but I’ve got brunch with Hester, Benjamin, and Ambriel... and that means coffee.”

“I really do apologize for the commotion,” Castiel says, setting the pile of discarded clothes by the doorway, “I didn’t think you’d be back last night. You said not to wait up.”

“I had a _really_ good feeling about Gadreel, but…” Hannah sighs. “He’s a big fan of that show Dexter, and he wanted me to role play as— you know what? It’s not important.”

Castiel stares at Hannah, horrified. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing since I woke up,” Hannah says sadly.

  
  


*

  
  


Hannah leaves not long after that, which leaves Dean and Castiel room to make pancakes together, then eat them at the table while making doe eyes and playing footsie; it’s ridiculously fucking cutesy and Dean knows it, but he’s god damn happy and not ashamed.

  
  


*

  
  


After breakfast Dean heads back to Lawrence. Castiel offers to loan him a shirt, and even though Dean’s shirt from last night is perfectly clean, Dean takes it. He gets what the gesture means, it’s a claim of sorts. A pre-pre-pre-pre-promise ring in the form of a worn and faded Wichita Thunder t-shirt, and Dean wants to accept.

On the drive out of Wichita, Dean finds himself driving past Tessa’s apartment out of habit, which is vaguely amusing until he notices Ketch’s motorcycle in his parking space as he goes. His heart sinks just a little, but he keeps driving.

The further he gets, the more something stands out to him; he’s not bothered that Tessa has another man over, he’s bothered that it’s _Ketch_. His jealousy has been more about how much he dislikes Ketch and less about a fear of losing Tessa.

Wow, that’s fucked up.

But it’s good to finally fucking see that for what it is.

He pulls over at a 7-11 in Topeka so he can get out his phone and make a call.

“Forget something?” Castiel says by way of greeting.

“Yeah. I really like you, let’s go on a date next weekend.”

Castiel lets out a soft little gasp; Dean’s heart does a backflip. “I… absolutely, that sounds like a good idea.”

Dean grins, relaxing in his seat and doing a little fist pump. Two teenage boys are giving him odd looks while they drink their giant cups of soda, but Dean doesn’t care.

“So,” he says, killing the engine. “It’s been almost half an hour since I left, miss me yet?”

 


	16. Chapter 16

On the Wednesday after Dean’s night with Castiel, Dean and Tessa meet in the apartment.

It looks… different, even though nothing is. There’s still a bunch of magnets for La Muerte’s Deep Dish Delights on the fridge, the couch still has Tessa’s mother’s ugly throw pillows, there’s still a faded red wine stain under the coffee table. All that’s really missing is the stuff Dean took when he first left.

Tessa definitely looks different, though. Her medium length hair has inexplicably grown several inches, and she’s wearing a soft, simple looking white dress that Dean’s never seen before. She smiles when she sees him staring at her hair.

“Extensions.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Dean says, nearly hitting himself with his palm at the obviousness of that answer. “I was thinking there was just _no way_ hair grows that fast.”

“Thought I’d try something different… Billie’s idea.”

“I think it looks nice.”

“Thanks. You look…” Tessa wrinkles her eyebrows.

“The same?”

Tessa lets out a snort. “Yes, exactly the same.”

“Well I _thought_ about getting extensions, but then I’d look like Sam.”

There’s some genuine but awkward laughter between the two of them, then a long silence.

“ _I’m sorry,_ ” they both say at the same time. The following laughter is easier.

“Have a seat,” Tessa says, gesturing at the couch.

It’s awkward for a moment, deciding how close to sit, but they get sorted.

“I spent all that time looking for excuses to end things without even realizing it,” Tessa says. “If it hadn’t been Castiel, it would have been something else. You and I just…”

“Weren’t quite right?”

“Yeah. But that was hard to wrap my mind around, because there’s nothing wrong with you as a person…”

“Or you.”

“But I guess sometimes it just isn’t there. Or it _is_ there, but not for long.”

Dean nods sadly. “Yeah, I know. I think… I know I stayed in this for all the wrong reasons, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

“What was your reason?”

“Proving to myself that I could go the distance in a relationship, I guess. That I could have one that wasn’t a failure.”

Tessa sighs. “Me too. After Thaddeus and Ajay… after Tamiel, I just wanted to feel like I could _do_ this. And finally I was into a guy that wasn’t an aloof prick, I wanted to chase that, and not have it fall apart. But the thing is, every relationship falls apart until you find the one that doesn’t. And us staying together, that was just holding us both back from finding the one that sticks.”

“Like Ketch?”

Tessa laughs and rolls her eyes.

“I saw his bike in the lot the other day…”

“Yeah, no. Ketch is not the one that’s going to stick. You know what I noticed the more time I spent with him?”

“That he sucks?”

“That he sucks,” Tessa says, nodding. “We had some…” Tessa makes some vague gestures that Dean assumes relate to sex in some way. “But that was kind of it. Just another aloof dick. I don’t want to date him. I’m not even sure I want to stay friends with him if I’m being honest.”

“Music to my ears,” Dean says smugly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you love to be right. Ketch was just a symptom of our problems, not a cause.”

“I think I finally realized that the other day. I saw that motorcycle, and… I wasn’t jealous. I just hate that guy.” Dean sighs. This is all so weird. They’re two people that care about each other, and yet it’s so, so, over. Arguably with a whimper, not a bang. “I’m sorry, Tess. You were _right_ to call for a break, I should’ve—”

“We both should’ve. It’s… we learned something from the experience. That’s going to have to be good enough.”

“Yeah.”

“So… what about you and Castiel? Is that… does that have the chance to stick?” Tessa doesn’t sound angry or jealous. She sounds like someone that cares about Dean’s future.

Dean smiles and leans back a little. “Honestly, Tess? I’ve got a good feeling.”

  
  


*

  
  


They divvy up the rest of what’s in the apartment. Most of the furniture is Tessa’s, while most of the electronics and kitchenware are Dean’s. Tessa trades Dean her old laptop for his TV and his crockpot, then they play rounds of Blackjack to see who gets custody of DVDs they both like.

It’s the most fun Dean’s had with Tessa, without other people around as buffers, in at least a year.

He’s not really sure where they go after this, if they’ll ever be able to be friends, or if they’ll just be people that pass each other in the store and play five minutes of catch up once every six months. But they’re both in a good place, they’re both moving on, and things look so much better than they did the last time Dean walked out of this apartment.

There’s this feeling of finality as Dean sits in his Impala, backseat and trunk full of miscellaneous items from the apartment, including a box of “going away pie” that Tessa got from the bakery near her work. He feels like he should be visiting his favorite haunts, saying goodbye to Charlie, Victor, Jo, Ash, and Mick… and then he realizes how ridiculous he’s being.

He’s driving back to Lawrence, not leaving the fucking country. He’ll be back.

After all, he’s got a date with Castiel next weekend.

 


	17. Epilogue

Nothing’s set in stone, Dean knows that. This thing with Castiel, though, feels a lot like what Dean always imagined _“it”_ would feel like. Different from anything else, solid.

 _Endgame_ , as Charlie put it.

They’ve been dating for ten months, living together for two. Not because they thought they were “supposed to” live together, not because they were afraid of being alone, but because they wanted to wake up in the same bed as often as possible. They’ve talked about getting a bigger place, but for now they’re in the house across the street and two houses down from Sam, which Dean moved into about a month after they started dating.

It took a lot of uncomfortable self-analyzing and long conversations to get here and feel secure, but Dean’s far happier than he was when he was living with Tessa, even though living with Tessa was definitely easier.

For one, Castiel turned out to be a fucking _slob_ when he’s not worried about messing up his sister’s house, which was unexpected. Dean’s a slob when he’s depressed, but Castiel’s one all the time, apparently. He leaves wet towels on the floor, granola crumbs in the bed, dirty dishes on the table. It’s stunning, really, how messy he can be.

Thank fuck for the chore wheel.

Castiel is also, apparently, a morning person. That wasn’t at all clear when Dean saw him hungover and miserable that day so many months ago, but when he hasn’t been drinking the night before, Castiel likes to get up with the sunrise and go for a jog. A _jog._

He hogs the covers at night, he hovers over Dean like a panicked mother hen when Dean has a cold, he doesn’t like Star Wars, he makes Dean watch nature documentaries, and Dean’s never been so in love.

Castiel hasn’t met Dean’s father yet, but he met Adam when he came to Kansas for Dean’s birthday, and he’s met Dean’s mother a few times. They get along well, she even called Castiel one of “her boys” last time she was in town.

As far as Castiel’s family, Dean’s met just about everyone. He’d already met the siblings early on, but he’s also met Castiel’s nieces and nephews, and many obnoxious cousins. He hasn’t met Castiel’s mother, who lives in Europe with what Castiel calls her “new” family. Castiel doesn’t talk about her all that much, but Dean knows they’re not close and Castiel’s okay with it.

He’s of course met Castiel’s fathers, who have a _lot_ of dogs and write a paranormal mystery series together.

Dean’s read a couple; they’re exquisitely terrible. Chuck and Marv have a passionate fanbase though, so Dean supposes taste is in the eye of the beholder.

Dean’s still doing construction. The money is decent, and he likes working with his hands and as far away from a fucking cubicle as possible. Plus Bobby Singer is a swell guy to work for, even if he gave Dean a lot of shit for quitting and moving away in the first place.

Dean’s pretty cool with his decision to leave; how else would he have met Castiel?

Dating a minor celebrity has been weird, though. Sometimes Dean will completely forget Castiel is kind of a famous actor, and then some screeching fan will come barrelling up to them at the mall asking for Castiel’s autograph, or some total stranger with a Halo Project userpic will try to friend Dean on Facebook. It’s fucking weird, although Dean can’t help but slightly relish in the jealous looks fans sometimes give him when they see his arm around Castiel or something. He’s not really used to being the source of envy for anything other than his dashing good looks.

In the time they’ve been dating, Castiel hasn’t really had a steady job. Not that he’s a bad employee, he just keeps trying out new jobs like hats and not loving any of them. He even tried working with Dean for a few weeks, which went pretty poorly. Castiel is many things, but a competent builder is not one of them. Also, Cain turned into a bizarre fucking fanboy every time Castiel was around. The fact that Cain is such a big fan of some shitty show on a fifth place network watched by teenagers has been a source of both amusement and annoyance.

He hooked Dean up with an _awesome_ pair of pajama pants though. They’re black fabric, patterned with the face of Castiel’s character from Halo Project.

Castiel hates them.

Dean’s wearing them the Saturday Castiel comes home from a long lunch with his agent, looking troubled.

“Hey,” Dean says from the bed. He’s got Tessa’s old laptop in his lap and an episode of Dr. Sexy playing on a DVD.

“I got a job offer,” Castiel says tentatively. “An acting job, I mean. I’m thinking about taking it.”

Dean pauses his video. “Is it a starring role on Dr. Sexy?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and toes his shoes off before plopping down next to Dean. “I’m afraid not. Halo Project’s being cancelled.”

Dean snorts. “Couldn’t make it without you, huh?”

“I’m not sure that _I’m_ the reason… nevertheless, they’ve been renewed for a final season comprising of ten episodes. Filming’s starting next month, and… they want me to come back for those ten episodes.”

Dean sits up a little. “Yeah? I thought… I thought you didn’t want to go back.”

“I didn’t, not when it was going to be full time for who knew how long, but this is ten episodes. Three months of filming, and I’m back to Lawrence.”

“How are they gonna do it?”

“Do what?”

“Your character’s been dead a _year,_ how do they bring him back?”

“Ah… as an angel,” Castiel says, chuckling.

“So you’d like… have wings?”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “I suppose?”

“I think you should do it. It’ll be hot.”

“Just like that?”

“I think you’d look fucking _sexy_ as some avenging angel, man.”

“Ahhh, so this is all about your masturbatory activities.”

“Of _course_ not, I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“I think I’d like to do it.”

Dean nods. His heart sinks a little, at the thought of Castiel being gone that long, but three months is nothing… really.

“Would, um… would you come back and see me on weekends? Is that possible?”

Castiel nods slowly. “I can, but… I was hoping you might come with me. If you wanted. If Bobby was okay with it. We wouldn’t have to give up the house or anything, and Sam could probably keep an eye on it for us.”

“Given this some thought?”

“It was a long drive back from lunch.”

“So, like… what would I do in Canada?”

“You could take a vacation, laze around, be my kept man,” Castiel says, leaning over to kiss at Dean’s jaw.

“Interesting, I’ve never been a kept man before…”

“Or I could pull some strings, get you a temporary gig at the studio.”

“Never gotten to benefit from nepotism before either,” Dean says with a grin.

“Set construction could be right up your alley.”

“So I’d be like the lowly set grunt, and you’d be the glamorous TV star I worship from afar…”

“Dean don’t let your penis make decisions for you. And I doubt you’d be working on my show specifically.”

“I’m not letting my dick make any choices, Cas, you had me the second you said you wanted me to come with you.”

Castiel’s eyes light up with joy, and Dean practically swoons. “Really? Just like that?”

“Hell yeah, Cas. It’s just a few months, it’ll be awesome.”

Castiel throws his arms around Dean and they flop back onto the bed. “Thank _God,_ I’m honestly not sure if I would want to go without you.”

“Ugh, stop making me love you, dick,” Dean grumbles as Castiel rolls on top of him.

“It’ll be great, Dean. And even if it’s not—”

“We’ll be back in three months anyway.”

“So you see the appeal.”

“I can’t believe I’m finally going to get to eat semi-authentic poutine,” Dean says, mouth already watering at the thought. Dean may not be a fan of the metric system or bagged milk, but some stuff Canada gets _right._

“Why do I get the feeling _that’s_ why you’re willing to come with me?”

“Cas,” Dean says, kissing his boyfriend gently, “don’t be ridiculous. It’s fifty-fifty.”

Castiel sighs and starts tickling Dean, causing him to giggle and flop like a child until he accidentally rolls them both right off the bed.

  


THE END

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to show my artist some love for her **adorable** art! [[Clicky!!]](http://starmouse123.tumblr.com/post/166226625365/freebies-oak-trees-ii-dcbb-2017-ii-art)


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